The Strange Face of Love
by Psammead
Summary: Pseudo-Canon: Dean and Cas have a relationship of sorts over the span of 3 years. They have that profound bond, but it's not some chick-flick, one-true-love deal. It's messy and painful, but desperately sweet. It's what could have happened off screen.
1. Our Shadows Taller Than Our Soul

_Disclaimer: I'm not Kripke or Gamble, I obviously do not own Supernatural, Dean or Castiel in any way, shape or form, because if I did, you would be watching this on HBO complete with swearing and sex instead. There is a great deal of canon and certain lines of dialogue referenced in my fic, used solely to establish when in the timeline of the series the scenes occur. I figure, if you're reading this, you're obviously a fan of the show, and should know exactly what I didn't come up with on my own. In addition, I reference several classic rock songs and various movies/books. A list of credits will be provided at the end. Thank you!_

_Warnings/Notes: An attempt to stick to canon. Spoilers, massive, massive spoilers, as this fic runs concurrent with seasons 4, 5 and 6. Destiel, straight up, although it acknowledges canon parings. Mostly schmoopiness, some hurt/comfort, some Dean/Cas/Pie, teeny bit of wingfic, eventual non-consent, but a lot of ooey-gooey romance, too, a little bit of everything, really. A lot of blasphemy. There's so much in the show that seems to just be unspoken, and as a rabid fangirl, I needed to fill the gaps. (insert joke about the boys filling my gaps here)_

_I wrote that stuff 3 months ago, and I have now realized that no one writes things like this because the cross-referencing for making sure one does not violate canon is exhaustive. Seasons 4-6 are now seared into my brain. Wait, that's a good thing!_

**The Strange Face of Love**

**Prologue  
><strong>

The Hosts of Heaven mourned the falling of two hundred angels. How could they not? There was never such a loss of family, and there wouldn't be again for almost four thousand years. Regardless, the Nephilim needed to be dealt with. The atrocity of angels and humans breeding was incomprehensible, and the Host barely understood feeling anything at all, let alone disgust and betrayal. The Archangels had to go before God. It was decided that Uriel was the best suited to speak to Noah of the coming flood, as his strength was persuasion. Raphael was tasked with dealing with Azazel, the angel with the yellow eyes who lead the Fall. Raphael, being the most aggressive, bound Azazel hand and foot and tied him to jagged rocks to await the Day of Judgment. Gabriel was the obvious choice to destroy the Nephilim themselves, as he was excellent at sowing seeds of discontent, with his oddly mischievous nature. Michael, the most beloved, the leader, was to bind the fallen angels themselves, deep in the valleys of the Earth, also until the Day of Judgment.

Castiel was an idealist. It shook him to the core that angels would willingly fall, mate with humans, the wriggling little fish barely more than animals. Their sins of the flesh disgusted him- he understood that humans procreated, the angels even formed platonic pair bonds amongst themselves, but he had never felt an interest in such things. Castiel had never encountered an angel he wished to pair with, preferring the solitude for maximum devotion to God, and he could hardly comprehend the appeal of physical intimacy.

The Flood came and went, the humans sorted out their affairs, once again complacent without the bad influence of the Nephilim. Centuries passed. Uriel and Gabriel were chosen to guide a man through heaven. Apparently, they enjoyed communicating with man. Castiel paid the human little mind. He didn't really care about the humans. The human was special to God, however, and eventually became an angel himself, called Metatron. Castiel liked Metatron. He was a writer, above all else, and Castiel talked with him at length about his times as a human. Through their talks, walking in the Garden with Metatron, Castiel began to think he had maybe been too harsh in his apathy towards his Father's most beloved creations.

This was why, when Haniel asked if he wished to walk the Earth with her, he agreed. Haniel was his favorite sister, and he followed her gladly, as she was his superior, and while he loved and trusted her as he loved and trusted all his siblings, he sought her company more often than he sought others.

"I travel to Canaan, brother," she smiled sweetly, "I am curious as to what these humans are like; I wish to see for myself what caused our brothers to fall."

Castiel did not admit it to Haniel, but he too, was curious. He simply did not understand how appeal the humans held was so great to make an angel Fall. Despite his fondness for Metatron, it was mysterious to him.

They took vessels, Castiel a woman, with dark hair and eyes like broken sapphires. Haniel took as a vessel a man with red glints to his hair and great emerald eyes. They had no real concern for gender as regards to human, but some of the angels, the ones that resembled humans cosmetically, thought of themselves as more masculine or feminine, depending on their strengths and weaknesses. This didn't matter when it came to inhabiting a physical body- no matter the outwards appearance, the Grace was the same.

They walked among men, ate and drank as men, learned of the customs humans shared. Castiel quite enjoyed some things. The stories humans invented to teach their children lessons or simply to amuse themselves fascinated him. He also took interest in Haniel's joy. She seemed more carefree, more joyous than she ever had in Heaven.

At last they were called upon to return home. On their last night, they walked in the desert, covered by a sparkling night sky. Castiel could see the stars reflected in Haniel's eyes, and they embraced. Castiel felt something stirring inside his chest, something insane, and in a moment of madness, he reached up, and pressed his lips to Haniel's as he had seen the humans do. She returned the kiss, and it was sweet and warm, and over far too soon. She looked back at him, eyes sparkling, and then ran across the sands, laughing. He chased her, and they finally fell, laughing on the ground.

"I am glad you shared this with me, Castiel," she smiled at him.

"And I, you," he smiled in return.

Too soon, it was over and they returned to Heaven. It would be over three thousand years before Castiel walked the Earth again.

**Chapter One: Our Shadows Taller Than Our Soul**

Castiel was an Angel of Thursdays. Angels only answered prayers when they received orders from the Seraphim, but they constantly heard the mutterings of those who prayed. With the abundance of humanity, the angels had grown accustomed to tuning out the vast majority of the clamor. That was why Castiel was surprised when loud and clear, overriding ever other prayer, he began to hear the prayers of a four-year-old named Dean Winchester- his family was in danger, and he had prayed to God to save his mother and his baby brother. The orders from Heaven had come an instant later- to get the child and his brother out of the burning house. The mother was irrelevant. Castiel obeyed, sweeping the flames away from the children, guiding and speeding Dean's panicked footsteps.

Over the next two decades, the prayers from Dean came less and less, but Castiel always heard them when they did come. He only answered when Heaven commanded it so, but he never tuned them out. He kept a watchful eye on Dean as often as he could, intervening several times during the human's childhood when a stray demon or force of nature threatened his life. Heaven approved of this guardianship, because Dean was special. Eventually, both Dean and his little brother, Sam, died unnatural deaths, and it was Castiel that returned them to their bodies and wiped their memories. He didn't know what their purpose on Earth was, but he knew that trouble was brewing, and that the Winchesters would play important roles in the Apocalypse.

Dean traded his soul to a demon for his brother's life, and Castiel's garrison was called to duty. If Castiel had been the type to question his superiors, he might have wondered why Dean was allowed to make it to Hell in the first place, but he wasn't, so he only obeyed when told to rescue the Righteous Man.

Angels and demons fought at the gates of Hell, seven angelic warriors and vicious black smoke locked in battle. Castiel darted through the carnage. He was fast, one of the fastest angels, and his task was to get to Dean Winchester. He dived through the yawning, toothed mouth, avoiding the flames licking out at him, down into the massive spiral of Hell. Down, down, he flew into the Seventh Circle. He could sense the soul he was after, white hot, singing out as purer than anything else in the abysmal pit. In a wet, dark hole, he saw what appeared to his angelic vision to be a pure, shining, orb surrounded by choking, strangling black smoke. He laid hand on the soul and he was off, hoping that his garrison had cleared the way back up.

"Don't look back, don't look back…" he whispered to the soul. He broke through the Gate, tumbled down and was grateful to see the other six angels of his garrison. They surrounded him and then they were up, out, flying clear. He was at the front of the formation, and he glimpsed Uriel ahead when suddenly he was propelled forward by an enormous explosion. He tumbled, and saw behind him, his brothers consumed in the flames of the Leviathan. Then Uriel was by his side, offering support, but Castiel refused. He felt horrific pain at the loss of his entire garrison, the angels he had been stationed with for over two thousand years, but he was not about to show this weakness to Uriel. After a lifetime of war, he was used to soldiering on, and while considered an exceptionally funny angel, Uriel was not what one would term sympathetic. He was matter of fact, honest, eloquent, but not sympathetic.

"Were you in time?" Uriel asked him.

"No."

"Our brothers died in vain, then. " Castiel had no response. They flew on in silence, Castiel holding the soul close against himself until they were safe at the base. They could hear the host crying out that Dean Winchester was saved.

"I can resurrect him, if you are tired," Uriel offered.

"No. I will do it." Castiel did not want to let go of the soul, although he couldn't define why. He did not trust Uriel, perhaps, to handle it with the proper reverence.

"As you wish. I shall go seek Revelation. Now that the Seals are broken…" Uriel vanished, sentence unfinished, and Castiel made the angelic equivalent of rolling his eyes. _Uriel and his Revelation,_ he sighed to himself, and set about the task of resembling the body of the soul he cradled. Atom by atom, he found every cell that had been Dean Winchester, and assembled it anew. He laid heavenly kisses on each part, bestowing his Father's love upon every cell. When at last the tiny body lay cradled in his palms, he was surprised to see that the print of his hand where he had clutched the soul tight was visible on the shoulder. He breathed life back into the body, and it was gone.

* * *

><p>Dean Winchester woke to pitch black, stifling and hot in a tiny, tiny place. It was lovely, marvelous; it didn't hurt- that was a fuckin' shock. It was so much better than where he had been for the last forty years, but breathing was becoming an issue. He flicked his Zippo, saw a wooden wall in front of him. He punched it as hard as he could in the confined space. The wood cracked and dirt poured over him. He dug upwards and as his fingers broke the surface, realization dawned.<p>

_I am crawling out of my fucking grave. It's over. I'm back. Am I a zombie?_ he wondered, _Do I want brains? No, want a bacon cheeseburger. Probably not a zombie._ He looked around, considered the devastation he stood in the middle of, trees flattened circling his gravesite. _Time to be a good solider. Gotta move, gotta find cover. Gotta find Sammy._ He absently rubbed at his left shoulder. It ached, which was odd, being that the last thing he remembered in Hell did not involve his shoulder in the least. _The way her soul quivered under my blade, Alistair laughing, stroking- fuck. No. Gotta focus._

He found a gas station, stopped for supplies. He took a moment to examine his face, his torso in the mirror. There were no scars, no sign of anything he had been through in Hell, no marks where he clearly remembered knives and claws shredding him. He rolled up his sleeve to discover the source of the ache was a handprint, raised in a welt across his shoulder.

He grabbed only the most essential supplies, beer and porn. He grinned a little at the Asian beauty- _God, I missed Earth, _he thought, and then started a little as static blared on the TV. Trouble.

Once he got out of the shattered station, he tried Sammy and Bobby on the phone. Sam's line was dead, and Bobby didn't believe him. Dean couldn't blame him. As he headed to Sioux Falls, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching him.

* * *

><p>Alone in the bathroom, Dean looked back at himself from the mirror. His eyes looked changed, although the rest of him was almost better than new. It was too painful to try and tell Bobby and Sam that he could remember every horrible cut, every single thing Alistair had done to him, everything Dean had done after he got off the rack.<p>

The handprint was still aching. He gingerly laid his hand over it, and a wave of inexplicable peace washed over him. He felt like he was finally complete, his time in Hell absent from his brain for a few blessed seconds. Then, he felt a presence, someone else's consciousness brushing at the edges of his own. It was calm, serene, and full of acceptance, reassurance and love. As he considered this, the consciousness turned its focus on to him, and he felt it radiate concern, and confusion. Suddenly afraid, he yanked his hand away from his shoulder, and shuddered.

Sam called to him to get his ass in gear. Dean glanced at his reflection one more time, trying to banish the horror from his eyes and regain the sense of calm the consciousness had had for him. He couldn't find it, so he sighed, and left.

* * *

><p>After bitchslapping the diner demons, they got a room. Dean was more exhausted than he thought, and fell asleep researching. He dreamed of Hell.<p>

_Alistair, crouched over him, his strange catlike eyes glowing with lust and glee, about to sink into him, because of course it wasn't over just because he was off the rack. Alistair's lizard tail lashed back and forth, ready to pounce on Dean. The pain was over, but not the mind fucking, or even the actual fucking, Alistair never tired of making Dean want him. Or maybe Dean really did want it, at this point; he didn't know anymore where the line between Dean Winchester and the Pit's buttboy was. He had to push the tiny fragment of himself to the bottom of his soul every second, and the more he let himself go in the torture and rape, the more he found himself genuinely enjoying it._

_A blinding white light engulfed the room, and Dean looked up at the most indescribably beautiful, terrifying creature he had ever seen, and it reached out to him, gripped him tight, and they were flying._

_"Don't look back, don't look back…" _it whispered to him, and Dean woke suddenly to the TV blaring static. He was filled with the sudden knowledge that Sam was gone, and something was not right about Sam at all, and then the windows shattered.

"Dean!" he heard Bobby's voice, and they were on the move again.

* * *

><p>It was difficult attempting to contact Dean Winchester without killing him, Castiel discovered. He regretted very much burning out the eyes of the psychic, but he had tried to warn her, tried to get her to turn back. He was reluctant to take another human vessel, but these were desperate times. If he was being entirely honest with himself, he was not displeased with the opportunity to get away from his new garrison. Uriel was not a soothing angel to be around, these days. He had not always been so intense- once, Castiel had considered him a friend, but now, he preferred to avoid extended contact.<p>

Convincing the vessel was easy enough- Jimmy's bloodline had predisposed him to worship, and what devout man would resist the offer of a direct connection to the Host of Heaven? It was odd to Castiel though, that the necessary deception involved in taking Jimmy, in the promises that everything would be okay in the end, created a vague sense of unease inside of Castiel's heart. This unease manifested as a churning in the stomach of the vessel, as Castiel strode away from the tiny human crying on the porch of Jimmy's house. He ignored the outrage and pain of the vessel, pushing its consciousness down into a state of unawareness. He didn't have time to cope with babying Jimmy Novak as well as Dean.

Just in time- he could feel the call of a summoning spell. Not that he had to answer it, if he didn't want to, but now was when he was ready to meet Dean Winchester face-to-face.

Castiel shoved the doors open ahead of him, and strode unaware through the sparks and bullets, his attention on the man in front of him. All he cared to see was Dean. He could finally see Dean as humans saw each other, and he was amazed. The soul was shining just as brightly, in the eyes and life of the man before him. He was baffled that Dean didn't recognize how lucky he was, how deserving he was of resurrection because of the lives he saved. He tried to explain, but human language wasn't adequate for Castiel to convey his faith in God, and God's love of Dean, to Dean.

* * *

><p>Dean looked at the figure strolling obliviously through gunfire and stab wounds, and who was now speaking to him in an incredible voice, deep and resonant. Dean could almost hear the bass line of <em>Dazed and Confused<em> playing when the man spoke. The face that regarded him was simultaneously childlike and ancient, refusing to display joy or anger, only calm. There was something else in his eyes, and Dean recognized this as the consciousness he had felt when he touched the handprint. This was Castiel, beyond a doubt.

As the angel spoke, his amazing voice sparked something in Dean, something hot, something that was building into an indescribable feeling. He was sure this was a trick, somehow, because there was no reason for the so-called angel to provoke this sense of peace inside of Dean, this feeling of completeness. Naturally, Dean reacted to this with sarcasm, anger and mistrust.

_Good things don't happen to people like me_, he thought bitterly.

The eyes regarding him narrowed.

"You don't think you deserve to be saved." Castiel looked as though he was incapable of comprehending what Dean was feeling, his eyes filling with pity. Dean fucking hated pity.

* * *

><p>The next day, Bobby confirmed what Dean already felt in his gut, and didn't want to accept. Castiel was an angel. God had work for Dean to do.<p>

_Castiel_. Dean didn't want to think much about the angel, didn't want to focus on the weird cocktail of calm and faith that looking into the blue eyes had awoken in him. _It has to be a trap_, he thought.

The angel wasn't the only issue pressing on Dean's mind. There was something was off about Sam, something had fundamentally changed about his little brother. The womanizing was the first hint, although it had been pretty fucking funny that the guy who usually remembered the names of Dean's one night stands couldn't remember Crystal's name. That was the most badass Sam had been in years, actually, but it wasn't right, it wasn't Sammy. _Sammy never was a good liar, and the line of being out for a burger in the Impala, well, that's all sorts of not true._ _And he forgot my goddamn pie. That's a sign of serious trouble,_ Dean shuddered,_ Something extremely not good is up when there isn't pie._

* * *

><p>Castiel's reflexes were off in the vessel, and it created a new sensation inside of him, something bubbling and unpleasant, a lack of control that made Castiel twitchy. His garrison had gone up against the Witnesses, and they had failed because of him.<p>

They had found the ritual well underway, Lilith sacrificing two prophets tied to two enormous olive trees. Castiel was too slow to stop her from slitting their throats. The earth began to shake and he felt their souls slip free. Lilith laughed at him, and vanished.

He went to Dean in his dreams, after the Winchesters fought the Witnesses, and Dean evoked something in Castiel that he thought might be close to feeling anger. _Dean is an arrogant child, refusing to consider the bigger picture. My brothers had died for this brat? This is the Righteous Man? I tried so hard to make Dean understand, and be patient, but the impetuousness of this child pushed me into harshness,_ he thought.

When he had mulled over the encounter thoroughly, he regretted threatening Dean Winchester. He thought maybe he had been overly harsh due to his own failure. _After all, Dean would never have had to fight the Witnesses if I hadn't failed to stop the breaking of the seal, _he thought. Castiel had felt a bizarre twisting inside his stomach when he spoke to Dean and omitted certain details, the same twisting he felt when he deceived Jimmy. He hadn't the words to show Dean the severity of their situation. He only wanted to make Dean understand the need for faith- well, that wasn't entirely the truth. He wanted to reach out, lay hands on the print he had left on Dean, pull the human close, and- Castiel didn't know what, but it made his vessel tight and uncomfortable that he could not make these things happen. _Perhaps that is the source of my irritation with Dean. It is unsettling that I am experiencing irritation,_ he realized. _Obviously the vessel is affecting me much more this time than the last time I walked the earth._

* * *

><p>Dean thought perhaps the angel was hiding something, from the halting way he stammered out that he was made aware of the Witnesses.<p>

It had probably been a mistake to threaten to kick the ass of an angel, and as soon as he said it, Dean felt a bolt of fear run through him. Of course, he continued to push it. Dean was nobody's bitch, not Hell's anymore, and he was not about to become Heaven's.

But then Castiel leaned close to him, and Dean caught scent of something musky and enticing. When the deep voice told him, "I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back," Dean knew the appropriate response was fear and respect, but instead he felt the stirrings of something in a place lower than his stomach. He understood absolutely that the angel could do what he threatened and worse.

_But god, that voice, those eyes, the smell…_ His brain didn't trust Castiel, but his gut clamored at him that he should. He wanted to ignore his gut, which he thought might be taking its orders from his traitorous manly parts, but in the end, he couldn't.

That voice stayed with him for weeks, turning his mind over and over.

_I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition._


	2. I Hear The Voices When I'm Dreaming

**Chapter Two: I Hear the Voices When I'm Dreaming**

When Castiel visited the hunter again, he noticed something unusual about Dean's slumber. He stood above the sleeping human, and cocked his head to the side. Dean was twitching, moving his arms as if to block attack. He cried out gutturally, and Castiel decided to investigate the source of Dean's unrest.

Dean dreamed of Hell.

"My _goodness_, Dean, you have the perkiest nipples."

A demon was bent over Dean's back, moving violently against the human. Castiel woke him up. He didn't care to see anymore. Whatever that demon was doing, it seemed to be a violation of Dean's very soul.

He didn't have time to fix the broken shreds in Dean's unconscious. He needed Dean to know other things right now. He would remember to come back.

* * *

><p>Castiel found it interesting that Dean Winchester would have allowed hundreds of people to die to save his family; that he would give anything to not be a hunter, when it was so clearly what he was made to do. In retrospect, Castiel thought he should not have allowed Dean to think he could change the past, but his superiors wanted to understand how Dean would react to certain situations before the final tests came. Causing Dean this pain through his deception caused more of the bizarre gut twisting.<p>

He went to Dean in his dreams again that night. The human dozed fitfully in the backseat of the Impala, after confronting his brother. This time, Dean was dreaming of his childhood. John was teaching him about the engine of the Impala. He was six years old, back when he was still too young to understand how fucked up his life really was. Castiel watched in silence for a while, observing the care John took to reverently point out each part to the fascinated child.

Grown-up Dean appeared quietly next to Cas, watching the angel, watching himself.

"A dream? Don't you think it's kinda rude to invade other people's dreams?"

Castiel was almost startled. "It is the most efficient way to contact you. I can find your subconscious anywhere, without being physically present, or without as much time passing as it would outside your mind. I… I wanted to talk to you… about Hell."

Dean wouldn't look the angel in the face. "I don't want to talk about it."

"I… I saw your dream before, of the demon, the violation… I am sorry you had to go through that, Dean. I am sorry we could not reach you in time. I want to do what I can to repair you," he said sincerely.

"So I'm broken? You brought me back not quite right?" Now Dean looked right at him, glaring, accusatory. Castiel found his gaze slipping away from the furious eyes. It was unpleasant to hold eye contact for that long, he discovered.

"No man could experience Hell and be unchanged. However, there is something I could do to make it… easier on you."

Dean returned his gaze to his father, carefully guiding child-Dean's hand in pointing out each component that made the engine work. "No. No, thank you. I will deal with it myself, like everything else in this shitty world. I don't need the angels."

* * *

><p>Dean woke up. His new antagonist, the fucking holier-than-thou Castiel sat in the front seat. <em> Fucking, holier than anything else ever, cause he's a friggin' angel, <em> Dean thought viciously. Dean got out of the back angrily, and slammed the door. Castiel appeared next to him.

"Seriously, you can just fuck right off. First, you send me back, lie to me, and then as soon as I'm back, you send me after Sammy and his demon bitch? Fuck. This is too much, man, I am not this strong," Dean glared at the angel.

"You are, though. I'm sorry, Dean, my intentions were not to be rude or to hurt you. I-"

"Well, you were and you did. What else is there to say? Fuck you, dude?"

Castiel looked at him, perplexed. "What did you call me?"

"Uh…" The question derailed Dean's fury momentarily, "Ah, dude? It's a nickname. Kinda. So not the point, stay out of my freakin' head!"

Castiel was now clearly exasperated. "Dean, I am _trying_ very hard to be a help to you. I am not here to be rude, or creepy or whatever else you are accusing me of. I do not understand why you are upset when I only wish to _help you._ Stop acting like a petulant brat!" The angel's voice had risen in volume, and he stopped suddenly on the word brat, and looked somewhat shocked.

Dean wondered, _Is this the first time he's felt? Anything? _He took a steadying breath.

"Okay. I get it. I'm sorry. You were trying to be on the level with me. Share information. That's good. From now on, let's try using our words, 'kay? Instead of cryptic dreams and sending me into situations half-cocked?"

"I can try to use my words," Castiel acquiesced, "But I cannot promise anything, Dean. These are desperate times. The end of times. We are all fighting for our lives now."

Dean sighed, "I just don't think I am strong enough, really, I don't."

"God chose you, Dean. If he believes in you, what else do you need? He would not have chosen you if you were not fit for the task."

"I don't think it's that easy, Cas," Dean looked over at the angel.

"What did you call me now?" Castiel furrowed his brow.

"Uh… Humans shorten names, sometimes for convenience, sometimes for affection. Like, Sam's name is Samuel, but we call him Sam. Or Sammy."

"It's interesting that you remove the end of the word. The suffix 'el' means, 'of God, or by God.'"

"What does your name mean, then?" _Am I actually having a conversation with Cas? About nicknames?_ Dean almost laughed to himself.

"My name means, 'covered by God'." Castiel looked off into the distance.

"Is it okay if I call you Cas?" It occurred to Dean that leaving the 'el' off his name could be blasphemous, not that Dean cared about blasphemy, but he figured it would be shitty to offend the angel after his tirade about not being rude.

Castiel's lips almost twitched up at the corners. "You seem to call me many things, so I suppose it doesn't matter which you choose above the others."

"Just don't call you late for dinner?" Dean smiled. Cas raised a quizzical brow.

"I will return to you when I can, Dean. I am sorry that I chose the way I did to inform you about Sam. But I meant what I said. If you cannot control your brother, I will have to. He is too dangerous to be allowed to continue as he is." The angel's face went from placid to deadly serious in the middle of his final sentence.

"I understand. I'll get him to cut out the extracurricular activities. Uh…" Dean wasn't quite comfortable yet with the idea of not hating the angel, but he agreed with him on this at least. "Thanks, Cas." He heard a noise like a murder of crows, and when he looked over, he was alone. He sat a while, contemplating Sam's treachery. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got that he had to find out from an angel, and that his little brother had gotten so lost without him. Maybe he was really angry at himself for leaving, or at the demons for destroying their lives to begin with, but by the time he got back to the motel, it didn't matter who was really to blame, he was fucking pissed that Sam was the one lying to him.

* * *

><p>Castiel received orders as soon as he returned home. Litlith was up to something. He followed her for a week, as she bought massive amounts of livestock and transported it somewhere mysterious. Finally, Cas was able to track her to Egypt. Uriel was assigned to go along with him, because he had been tracking Lilith's partner, and he knew which seal it was. They were to contact the garrison if it seemed more than they could handle.<p>

Cas and Uriel blinked into existence on the edges of the Negev desert, near the Sinai-Negev erg. They quickly ducked behind a rocky outcropping and surveyed the chaos below them. Hundreds of lambs milled about, enclosed in fencing. There was an enormous crocodile, bigger than any that had walked the earth since the dawn of humankind, sunning itself in another enclosure. Demons patrolled both fence lines, which were separated only by a narrow strip of desert. Several dozen humans toiled under the burning sun, building an enormous clay statue of a horrible beast. There was a red pavilion off to the side of the construction, surrounded by dead bodies that looked like other workers that had passed out from the heat and dehydration and then died.

"They will raise the False Prophet, and will sacrifice six hundred and sixty six lambs to Sobek, who shall raise the Beast and give him power. Sobek commanded the humans to create a false idol, and this idol shall be given power to destroy all those who do not worship him. There are three seals here, Castiel, we cannot fail. Each time we fight, we lose another inch of ground. That ends today," Uriel whispered, "I will go around to the other side, and slay Sobek. You get into the pavilion, and stop Lilith from raising the False Prophet. Hopefully, we can prevent the beast from ever rising."

Castiel nodded, and Uriel vanished. Castiel flew silently down, invisible to the demons and crouched by the pavilion. Inside, he heard Lilith's child-voice chanting in song. He peered inside and saw a small Egyptian girl, hands outstretched over a pile of bones, bathed in blood. As he watched, the bones began to glow, and he raised his sword, ready to strike. Suddenly, there was a horrible pain radiating from his chest, his sword fell from numb fingers, and Castiel looked down to see the curved end of an enormous khopesh, an Egyptian sickle, protruding from his chest. He pulled himself forward and whirled around, the blade still stuck through his body as he faced the demon that had run him through.

"Well, well, well. Look who it is. Dean Winchester's new boyfriend, the angel of the lord, his holiness, Castiel," The slippery voice slid from the giant Israeli man's lips like sarcasm-laced oil, "When you're taking your pleasure in his firm, human flesh, remember this. _I had him first._"

Castiel reached behind himself, attempting to pull the blade out. The pain in his chest was increasing.

"Wh-what-" he stammered out, and the demon laughed.

"I'm Alistair. We met in the Pit, briefly. I haven't had the pleasure yet, of gutting you, but I assure you, that's next," Alistair drew a second, smaller khopesh from the sheath at his side, "Do you like my blades? They're not as fun as the ones I used on Dean, but they get the job done. They belonged to Ptolemy, the Avenger of Baq-t. They won't kill an angel, oh no, but they'll slow you down, steal your Grace away for long enough."

Behind him, Castiel heard a low rumbling as Lilith finished chanting. Alistair seized upon the distraction, and threw the second khopesh. It entered Castiel's stomach, and he fell to his knees.

He heard a ragged breath drawn from behind him, and twisted on the sand to see a naked black man where the bones had been.

"What the hell?" the man gasped.

"Gordon Walker," Lilith acknowledged the man with a nod, "I am Lilith. We have raised you from the Pit, and we have much work for you to do. Come," she held out her tiny hand, and led the man from the pavilion, past Castiel's twitching body. Alistair laughed.

"The False Prophet. So fitting, isn't it? Gordon always thought he was the Messiah. He's going to take special pleasure in killing your boy, you know. Somehow, I think he's going to really enjoy what we have planned for Sam, now that Gordon's served his time in the Pit. He really came around to my way of thinking, you know?" Alistair reached down, and dragged the larger khopesh through the front of Castiel's chest, "And now, I have his special blade. It's really lovely that you decided to come, Castiel. The False Prophet needed a weapon anointed with an angel's blood to do his work."

Castiel was unable to move, the magic of the second khopesh sapping his Grace. All he could do was watch in agony as Alistair opened the gates and allowed Sobek to lazily saunter into the panicking herd of lambs. Then Alistair vanished. Cas could see three figures appear up on the rocky outcropping he and Uriel had crouched behind earlier.

_Where is Uriel?_ he thought wildly, and tried to stand. He failed. He lay, panting on the sand, as Sobek consumed lambs by the dozen, snapping their bones with his giant teeth, soaking the sand with their blood. The earth began to shake beneath them all, and the sky began to turn as red as the sand.

Castiel could feel the last of his power about to fade, and suddenly, he thought of the white soul he had dragged from the Pit. He could almost see Dean's green eyes looking into his heart, and then he thought for a second he could hear Dean's rough voice, low and commanding in his ears.

"Kick it in the ass, Cas. I believe in _you_."

With his last shred of strength, Castiel reached up and dragged the khopesh from his gut. As he staggered to his feet, Uriel appeared next to him.

"I failed, they ambushed me. I only fought them off now. The rest of the garrison isn't responding," Uriel said, and then took in the sight of Cas's bleeding torso. He laid two fingers on Cas's brow, and his wounds were healed instantly, his Grace restored. "What happened?"

"I failed as well. They raised the False Prophet." Something burning whizzed down past the angels. They looked up, and saw fire begin to stream down from the reddened sky.

"There!" Uriel pointed out to where Sobek had slaughtered the last of the lambs, and now lay bloated on the pile of carcasses. In front of the terrible crocodile, the ground split open. A great paw, black and clawed, reached up out of the hole, and Castiel felt something he thought might be fear well up inside of him as the rest of the Beast emerged from the crack in the earth.

It was terrible, mighty, and horrifying. It had seven heads, all lizard like, with great curled horns rising between them. Each mouth was full of lion's fangs, and its body was feline, spotted black and red. One of the heads was crushed, and Sobek opened his jaws to let fire rush forth, engulfing the head. When the flames cleared, the Beast was healed and it rose up, enormous bat wings unfurling from its back. Then it bowed low before Sobek, who hissed at it.

He heard Dean's voice again in his head, "Okay, maybe not in the ass. Try the heart. Go. GO NOW!"

Castiel pushed off the ground, the smaller khopesh clutched in his hand. He wasn't sure what he was going to do, exactly, but he knew he had to do something before the Idol could be given power.

He blinked out of existence, re materializing on the rocks between Lilith and Alistair. Gordon stood with his back to them, all three focused on the Beast.

"You won't break all three seals, whore," he growled in Lilith's ear, and laid his hands on the foreheads of the demons. Light shone from their eyes, and the vessels collapsed, bleeding. Gordon turned at the noise, and Castiel tackled him, shoving the False Prophet down on the sand. Before he could react, Cas stabbed Gordon in the heart with the smaller khopesh, jerked it up to ensure the end of the False Prophet. Gordon's eyes widened in shock, and he choked as blood filled his mouth. Cas took the enormous khopesh and he flew as fast as he could, even faster than when he had saved Dean, and banked abruptly down and around the Beast, landing on its back. He stuck the khopesh down into its side, where he thought the heart might be, shoving his entire arm into the body of the creature, shoulder deep. Acidic black blood oozed up, and Beast lest out an agonizing, ear shattering roar. Cas withdrew his arm, leaving the blade in the Beast. Cas pushed himself up, and flew up above the battlefield.

The Beast fell, writhing, back into the crevasse, his claws reaching out and catching Sobek, dragging the crocodile with it back into the Pit. The crack in the Earth closed over the monster bodies, and the sky ceased to rain fire and began to clear. Castiel flew down to the bloody sand, his vessel winded, almost in shock that he had seamlessly ended the Rise of the Beast.

Uriel still stood where Castiel had left him, motionless. When he saw that the battle was over, he vanished and reappeared next to Cas.

"I'm sorry, Castiel. I was… I didn't know what you planned, or I would have helped."

"I didn't know myself," Castiel said simply. They stayed, keeping a silent vigil until night fell over the desert, and they were certain that it was over.

In Heaven, Castiel received much praise form his superiors, and he was surprised to be put in charge of the garrison, replacing Uriel. Apparently, they had never heard Uriel's request for assistance.

"You have a better head for dealing with the Winchesters," Zachariah told him, "And Uriel has more particular skills. You'll be a good leader, you can keep Uriel in line."

Castiel wasn't entirely comfortable with his new role. He was used to serving with Uriel under Haniel, but she had fallen decades ago, and her garrison split. After his new garrison had been killed, he didn't enjoy Uriel's company as much. He thought to himself, _it is perhaps unwise of Zachariah to place me in charge of one formerly my superior. But as God wills, so I shall act._

* * *

><p>They had just killed the Dracula shape shifter, and that night, Dean had the weirdest dream of his life up to that point.<p>

It started out a nightmare. He saw Castiel, lying on the ground in a vast sea of sand, impaled, and he watched the angel watch a giant Crocodile slaughter lambs. He cried out to Cas, and saw him drag the blade out of his chest. Dean's attention was then captured by the enormous monster he saw rising from the ground, and he modified his previous encouragement. He saw Cas lift off the ground, could almost see the dark shape of wings driving him up, and then he was no longer watching the desert scene.

He walked down an endless hallway, dark and stinking of blood and vomit. There was a dark figure somewhere ahead of him, and he felt like he had been walking for years, trying to reach it. He finally broke into a run, almost slipping in the excrement coating the floor. Then he was there, and he could see that the figure was Sam, his back to Dean, crouching over a corpse. Sam whirled around, eyes wide and dark, face smeared in blood. He spoke, black smoke pouring from his free hand, sliding towards Dean as the words left Sam's lips, "This is my choice." He held a gnawed human leg in his other hand.

Dean backed away in horror, "No, Sammy," he choked out, voice cracking, "Not the long pig!"

Sam advanced on him, and suddenly everything went black.

He opened his eyes, now laying horizontal on what was possibly the best bed ever, white and impossibly soft, and surrounded by drifting cloudy veils.

Jamie, the bar maid, was draped over him, purring in his ear. "You saved my life, you know," she whispered, and nipped his lobe slightly. She pulled back and he was looking into Lisa's eyes, the one woman to whom his thoughts always wandered to when he was feeling particularly sappy and sentimental. "We miss you. Come home." Dean reached up to touch her cheek and blue eyes suddenly stared back at him. Castiel was now straddling him. "Good things do happen, Dean. You don't believe you deserve to be saved?" Cas leaned forward and kissed Dean on the mouth. It was warm, and soft, so much softer than Dean thought kissing a man should be, and the angel's tongue delicately parted Dean's lips and caressed Dean's tongue. It felt like a bolt of lightening shot down his spine, straight to his dick. A perfect kiss. Dean woke up, rock hard and feeling decidedly disturbed. "Huh." he said to himself, and got up to jump in an icy shower, think about naked, _female_ nurses and cheerleaders to reassert his heterosexuality, and push his Sammy issues as far out of his mind as mentally possible.


	3. Over The Hills And Far Away

**Chapter Three: Over the Hills and Far Away**

Mercifully, a few days passed with without either a visit from the real angel or his amazing-kisser dream-counterpart. Dean was waiting to hear from Sam in a motel, trying to not have a heart attack. He was still having horrible nightmares, and worse, in waking, he was plagued by thoughts of that kiss, that perfect, wonderful, completely gay dream-kiss. That was failing to mention that he was still apparently enough of an ass to get tagged by the ghost fever despite being tagged as one of God's favorites. _Too much fucking stress, _he thought, scratching furiously at the road rash on his arm, _It was bad enough with just the gay sex dream and nightmares, but son of a bitch, I could live happily without the fucking ghost sickness._

"Hi there, lover boy."

Dean whirled about, and saw the grotesque visage of his rapist/mentor from the Pit, Alistair, with his melty brown face with giant cat eyes and a gaping mouth. He moved back a few steps under his own power, and was then propelled back into the wall by the force of the demon. The edges of the room started to blur and he heard the sound of his heartbeat too loud and fast in his ears.

"I brought you a friend," Alistair gestured, and Castiel appeared suddenly next to him, but this version of Castiel was horrifying. His eyes were pitch black, as was his entire demonic tax accountant ensemble, and instead of wings of shadow, twisted bones rose over his shoulders like skeletal vulture wings.

Alistair crossed the room, and ran his hand along Dean's cheek.

"I'm going to let him have his way with you, just as soon as we're though, precious," he hissed, and licked the sweat from Dean's neck. Castiel laughed and leered, advancing on him, too. Dean struggled, tried to free himself, and then suddenly fell to the floor, screaming and flailing.

He looked around the empty room. Nothing. He shook on the floor for a few minutes, then dragged himself up to the sink, splashing cold water on his face. _Where the fuck is Sammy?_ he thought to himself, _I'm dying, I'm fucking dying, I'm not going to make it._

Sam and Bobby did save him, eventually. Sam wouldn't stop asking questions about the Pit though, and Dean wasn't about to be honest with Sam, not when he could barely process it himself, and not to this man who used to be his innocent little brother, who was now lying to Dean, and god only knows what else.

* * *

><p>It was the day before Halloween. Dean was tense with anticipation of when word of the next seal would reach them, and a little nauseous. Stuffing his face with liquor and candy wasn't helping him anymore. Not that that stopped him from trying to induce an alcoholic sugar coma, waiting for the witch to surface.<p>

Then word came in the form of a visit from Cas and his super fun new 'friend', Uriel. A seal was about to be broken, and Dean was in the middle of a heated debate with the source of his angst, and his dream kept flashing into his head. _Focus, Winchester_, he told himself sternly, _this is serious fucking business. Focus on how pissed you are at these sons of bitches, not on Cas's stupid mouth._

"Is that something you are willing to risk?" Cas asked fiercely, stepping into Dean's personal space again, smelling all irritatingly delicious, and acting like a self righteous asshole.

_Soft, warm lips pressing against mine, the scratch of stubble against my cheeks, Cas folding to my touch, pliant and contrite…_ Dean was almost overcome with the desire to fuck some humanity into the holy bastard in front of him. Cas was now giving him a very weird look. _Does he know what I was thinking?_ Dean wondered, as they exchanged a series of heated looks,_ Or is he just upset that I still place value on human lives? Dicks. _

He saw something in Cas's eyes, though, that gave him a moment of hope that Cas, at least, would side with Dean if it came right down to it, even if he was now spouting blind, patronizing faith in God. Dean was sick of being pushed around by Heaven and Hell. _Fuck it,_ he thought,_ Time to go with my gut and start with the angry threatening._

The seal broke, but the town was saved. Castiel came to him after and explained the true intentions of the angels. Dean would have been upset that Cas had, once again, not been straight with him, but with the appearance of Uriel, Dean was starting to get that Cas was not exactly top dog in the angelic hierarchy- Uriel was awful lippy for a subordinate. He didn't trust the angels, but he felt deep in his guts, that somehow, Cas was different. He was surprised to learn that Cas had doubts and fears and even more surprisingly, admired and loved humans for being his Father's creations. He also speculated that perhaps having those doubts was a new thing in the angel's experience, maybe even something that could get him in a lot of trouble with his superiors. He felt… honored, almost, that Cas had spoken to him as an equal, not as a child. He went to bed that night, uneasy about everything. Every single aspect of his life seemed about as stable as the cardboard cutouts in an old western, and then, of course, the nightmares set in.

* * *

><p>He had another nightmare the night they left Concrete, after the Wishing Well Fiasco.<p>

The most annoying thing, other than Hell's stupid strobe lighting, was that ever since fighting the Buruburu, every single nightmare had been accompanied by the incessant yipping of a Yorkshire terrier with a pink bow in its hair. Dean hated the fucking Yorkie almost as much as the anal rape.

_"Oh, yes," Alistair crooned in his ear, "The perkiest little nipples, and of course that nice, sweet, virgin ass." Dean felt something pushing against his opening. He tried for the millionth time to break free, but the bonds were, as always, too tight. He screamed, swore, tried to clench to protect himself from the invasion, but Alistair got in anyways, he always got in. The Yorkie went crazy, howling in various pitches._

_"Yes… Oh, that tight little ass," Alistair had a way of whispering certain words to make them sound as filthy and vile as possible. "Are you ready, Dean? For your favorite part?"_

_The worst part for Dean, was that it wasn't a lie. Oh God, did he hate himself for it, but for five seconds, the pressure in his ass felt good, so fucking good, and for a split second Dean couldn't help but enjoy it, and he was coming, and-_

_Then he was facing up on the rack again, Alistair smiling at him with malicious triumph in his eyes. He lifted his knife to cut into Dean, and he screamed again, the Yorkie barked-_

Suddenly, everything changed. Dean lay on a wide, green meadow, surrounded by flowers and hedges, and topped by the most perfect blue sky Dean had ever seen. He let his muscles slowly relax. _Am I dreaming? Is this a dream? Is that a kite?_

"Yes," Castiel said.

Dean sat up and saw the angel, sitting on the grass a few feet away. Dean also noticed a figure on the far side of the meadow, attached to the other end of the kite string. _This is pretty fucking idyllic,_ Dean thought.

"You're dreaming. You need to let me help you with these nightmares. They are more than you should have to bear. It's all I can do to alleviate your pain, Dean. Please allow me to help you. You can't live your life a step away from Hell."

"Uh. Yeah. Okay, I guess. What are you gonna do? Lock away my hell-memories?" Dean looked across the meadow.

"I don't think that would be wise. I am not powerful enough to place a permanent barrier. What I can do, is change what you dream, sometimes. I know it's not much."

"No, that would be nice. I know you're busy, and all, but yeah. Not having to have those dreams every single time I close my eyes, that would rock. Uh, thanks, Cas," Dean looked around again, "Where are we now?"

"I like this place, so I created it inside of your dream. It's… It's where I go to be at peace."

"Heh. You're angel, aren't you always at peace?"

Cas actually allowed his lips to curve upwards a little at that. "Angels are diverse. The bible describes my kind as the Powers. We are the warriors of God, we are the bearers of conscience, the overseers of the distribution of power among humans."

"Well, way to throw power my way," Dean rolled his eyes.

"We are giving you as much help as we can," Castiel looked at him sharply.

"I'm just sayin', for an overseer of conscience, you play a lot of games and you have a twisted little sense of honor there."

"Games? We test you, to be assured we can rely on you to do what must be done," Castiel frowned. "How can you question the honor of an Angel?"

"Oh, I'll question the honor of just about anything that would vaporize a town, whether or not you're just 'testing my battlefield responses'," Dean lay back down, "My honor isn't like that. I learned about honor from my dad. Well, and from the classics."

"The classics?"

"Movies. You guys know about movies?" Castiel nodded, Dean continued, "I grew up watching all the best ones. Sturges, Lucas. Roddenberry. Tarantino, " Dean suddenly had an _awesome fucking idea_, "Cas, I know exactly how to explain my sense of honor to you. Can you pick things up out of my mind? Like the plot to a movie?"

"I think so? I've never done it, but if you focus on it, I should be able to follow your 'script'. You wish to reenact one of these movies?"

"Yeah. Is that cool?" Dean suddenly realized he was hijacking the angel into his fantasy world.

"Yes. It is." Cas actually smiled then. Dean was amazed at the change that came over his features, the softening of the usually cast iron features.

"I'm going to be Chris, obviously. You should be… ah… Bernardo. Yeah. Ok. Here we go," Dean rubbed his hands together gleefully.

* * *

><p>"The Old Man was right. Only the farmers won. We lost. We'll always lose." Dean said.<p>

"Interesting," Castiel was himself again, standing off to the side.

Dean woke up abruptly. Cas stood next to the bed, watching him intently.

Dean realized he was naked. He pulled the thin hotel sheet up to cover himself, and then thought, _Do angels even care about nudity?_

"We do not. Even if we did, I rebuilt your body when I pulled you from Hell. I am more familiar with your every pore than you are."

"It's really not polite to read people's thoughts, dude, we've been over this. Or to gawk at their naked bodies."

Castiel sighed, and rolled his eyes. _Huh. Angles roll their eyes. Whoda thought?_ Dean smiled a little to himself.

"You broadcast some of your thoughts so loudly I can hardly avoid them. Rest assured, I never want to know what is going on in your twisted little mind. Also, I am hardly gawking. You humans so rarely escape your fears of the original sin. Regardless, I will attempt to stay out of your thoughts, and thank you for sharing your story with me. I enjoyed it." The angel inclined his head slightly, and with that almost too quiet to be heard clap of wings, he was gone.

* * *

><p>The Winchesters were regrouping, after having their asses handed to them by Alistair.<p>

Sam and Dean sat in the hotel room, allowing their various injuries to set up before making their next move, whatever the fuck that would be. Every nerve of Dean's body was on edge, and he wanted to hit something or possibly curl up in a ball and cry- _no, that's not true, I want to fucking give up. I want this to all be over, but suicide is never an option for us, is it, cuz that's just a trip back to the fucking Pit, _he thought bitterly, and settled for slamming down more liquor.

Sam was still droning on about Ruby. _Fuck Ruby, fuck demons, the latest thing I learned is that Sammy is a god-frickin'-awful storyteller. Or maybe I'm just annoyed because Sam's a trusting idiot. _He didn't let himself think that maybe his brother's words set him on edge because he was repressing the knowledge that his rapist- his _teacher-_ now walked the earth, and was coming for him. _Today might just put me right off sex forever_, he mused as Sam went on and on about his sweaty groping with the demon bitch.

After the long, painful story, though, Dean had to admit Ruby sounded pretty legit. In theory, she could be trusted.

However, Dean's gut told him otherwise.

* * *

><p>Castiel was in his favorite place, the meadow. He felt shaken. Cas had heard the news and couldn't stop the thrill that ran through his vessel. <em>Haniel<em>. _Alive._ His joy had been instantly diminished by being assigned to locate and destroy her.

He had tried his hardest to hint to Dean that Anna was in truth Haniel. He had no desire to kill her unless there was no other choice but disobedience. He had the strangest feeling that if the Winchesters were given a chance, they could save Anna from both Heaven and Hell.

He was shaken by the mere fact of being shaken. He considered the implications of feeling, well, _feeling_ at all. That was when the first vision hit him- Haniel, sitting atop Dean Winchester, writhing. Cas felt warm, all over, could almost feel the sensation of human skin on his vessel's. He felt a tightening in his groin, tingly and warm. He saw her lean down to kiss Dean, and he felt Dean's lips against his own, felt the rush of passion as they climaxed. He groaned aloud and it was abruptly over, and he was alone in the meadow, gasping. _What was that?_ he thought, but as nothing else instantly happened, he wasn't sure how to react, so he sat, trying to calm himself and regain control of his vessel's physical response to the vision, and then the second vision hit.

"_"Castiel was a good soldier. Fast. Smart, but always obedient, loyal. Something of an idealist. He was sweet, too, sweeter than most of the angels." "_

"_Cas's all right. He did save me. But I don't get why he's so loyal to a missing commander."_

He was back in the meadow again. _Was that real? Did they… _he thought in confusion, _The last time angels mated with humans, the offspring were an abomination, thus the sex was an abomination. Is it still a sin if there are no offspring? Does God even care anymore?_

Uriel appeared next to him. "We have reached an arrangement. Come."

They went to meet the Winchesters. Looking at Dean, Cas found he was still feeling. He felt surprise that Dean would betray Haniel to Uriel. He felt something else, too, just as twisting as what he now recognized as guilt, but more sickening, pettier, when he saw Haniel kiss Dean and remembered his visions. He tried to put the new emotion out of his thoughts and focus on his faith that Dean would somehow still do the right thing.

Now it was on him to kill Haniel. He froze, unable to do it, praying for an alternative. He hadn't truly believed it would come to this.

Alistair spoke from the doorway, distracting everyone. When Cas attacked him, this time, the exorcism didn't work. The demon pushed him to the ground, and as Castiel felt his eyes bulge almost from his sockets with the pressure, he felt something entirely new, different than anything else he'd ever known. His arms and legs felt numb, like when the khopesh had run him through, and his palms grew extremely moist. He knew suddenly in his mind that this was it, Alistair would end his millennia of existence, and he would die powerless to save anyone or anything. He would have given anything in that moment not to be ended, tried to pray but found nothing but an overwhelming wave of the new emotion blocking out everything else.

Dean Winchester _saved_ him. Haniel seized upon the distraction and reclaimed her Grace. It was marvelous, his Haniel, whole and powerful and beautiful again.

Uriel was furious, of course, and Dean was childish, but none of it mattered, because Castiel's prayers had been answered. He fixed Dean with a warning look, trying to keep his gratitude off of his face, and vanished, taking Uriel with him.

* * *

><p>Castiel was alone, struggling with the sensations churning his insides. They were unpleasant, disturbing, sensations, involving Haniel and Dean Winchester, Uriel and Alistair. The doubts, the questions, those were actions. The things inside of him… Castiel had never really felt before, only felt as the Host felt, cared as God cared. But the things inside of him, rolling about, manifesting when Haniel's Grace was restored, when Dean saved him from Alistair… Castiel was shaken to his very core.<p>

Once again, Uriel interrupted his thoughts.

"We need to track the demon. Haniel did not destroy him, she merely exorcised him. We need to find him before he breaks the next seal."

"How do you propose tracking him?" Castiel asked.

"There are signs of the coming Apocalypse across the entire globe. He must be at one of them, no?" Uriel raised an eyebrow.

Three weeks later, Castiel was ready to strangle Uriel. Not only had Alistair failed to manifest at any of the sites they searched, but they discovered seal after seal that had already been broken. At last, they discovered where Alistair was, almost too late.

They were at the peak of Mount Olivet when the sky went dark. The sun went out suddenly, as if someone had blown it out like a candle. Castiel could see in the darkness, luckily, and he turned to ask Uriel what was happening, but Uriel was gone. Cas crept silently along the graves, listening for a hint of what happened.

Then he heard the ragged breathing, and the chanting, Alistair's voice ever slippery and disquieting. A woman with a cat's head was tied to a fig tree, and Castiel recognized her as Bast, the Egyptian cat-goddess. A green flame flared up in the darkness, illuminating the demon and the woman, and Castiel started forward, only to be stopped in his tracks by another body tackling him to the ground. He looked into the crazed eyes of the man known as Gordon Walker, who held the smaller khopesh to Castiel's throat.

"Thought you got me, didn't you? I don't die so easy, boy. Don't you know the Messiah always rises again?" Gordon whispered viciously into Cas's ear. Cas heard a strangled meow as Alistair slit Bast's throat.

"Oh, it's gonna be a great fucking show." Gordon smiled, and yanked Cas to his feet, pushing him forwards to Alistair. He held Cas immobile with strength much greater than a mortal's, still pressing the blade to his throat. Once again, Cas felt that horrible sensation of knowing he was going to die.

"Castiel. I'm so glad you finally decided to show. Just in time to witness the Rise of Azathoth." Alistair caught the last drops of Bast's blood in an urn, and turned to face the False Prophet and the angel.

"_Azathoth __appareo quod semino per tergum of sus!" _Alistair said with an evil grin, and the earth began to shake. He advanced on Castiel, khopesh in hand, "Once again, you arrive at exactly the wrong moment, angel. Don't you research these rituals before you start interfering? Maybe send someone who isn't instrumental in doing the spell to stop us? Do you even know how many of these things involve celestial blood?" Alistair was right next to him now, hissing in his ear, "A lot, Castiel. I've killed so many of your kin, it's getting to be sad how defenseless you all really are."

Castiel saw a pale arm shoot over Alistair's shoulder and make contact with his forehead.

"It's getting to be sad how oblivious you are, Alistair," said the lithe red-head, holding a bottle with a flaming rag in her other hand carefully away from herself.

_Haniel_. Castiel felt a wave of relief and gratitude wash over him as Alistair once again shone with white light and returned to Hell. He sunk his elbow into Gordon's stomach and pushed away, ducking. Haniel threw the burning object from her other hand, and it hit Gordon in the chest. He shrieked, and erupted into flames.

"What-" Cas began, and Haniel smiled.

"Abramelin Molotov, courtesy of Alestier Crowley. Only its flame can destroy the False Prophet. You need to watch your back, Cas, or get someone reliable to do it for you."

"Haniel, your body-"

"Anna, please. I'm not Haniel any longer. We'll talk another time," and before he could object, she was gone.


	4. Ask the Lonely

_Author's Note: This chapter has some Dean/Anna and references to Dean with various archetypal women_**. **_It's not graphic and I swear, there's all the Dean/Cas in the world to come. But I can't just make Dean gay- I don't think of him as gay, I think of him as in love with Cas, regardless of anything else. But I gotta get there logically._**  
><strong>

**Chapter Four: Ask the Lonely**

The angels had burst into the room, demanding Anna. Uriel was all bluster and threats, but when Dean looked into Castiel's eyes, he recognized the look from their argument on Halloween. Cas might have been saying dire sounding things, but Dean could read the warning in Cas's words, see the reluctance in his eyes. Dean knew that Cas would once again back his play before he'd back Uriel's. It wasn't lost on Dean that this time was different. _Cas was honest with me. At least, he's not lying for the other angels. Anna remembers now, too, an approachable angel_, Dean thought, _how about that._ He saw her alone in the junkyard, and he had to go to her, had to seek her guidance.

He almost wished he hadn't, after they spoke. He had been clinging to that last shred of hope that God was what Cas told him he was, that there was a purpose for all of the shit in his life. The knowledge that there was no one steering the ship, that angels knew only a little more than humans, that chilled him to the core of his fractured psyche.

It did reassure him to know that being human was far from the worst thing ever, though.

* * *

><p>He found himself alone with Anna again, suddenly, after the threatening broadcast on Angel Radio. Dean found it so strange to be on the other side of the conversation he'd had when he met Cas, with another angel playing the Dean Winchester role. When Anna came to talk to him, the words falling from her lips echoed the feelings he'd had rolling around his brains since Cas first remarked with surprise, "You don't believe you deserve to be saved…"<p>

He couldn't tell if it was a ploy to gain his protection, or out of pity or solace that she kissed him, but it was welcome and it was perfect.

He had been flattered by her at first, but uninterested, innocent catholic girls hardly being his type, but now that she was something else, something wild and dangerous, it was different. Her touch made him feel for a little while at least, that he really might not be alone. Anna was sweet, so sweet, and Dean loved to fuck in the Impala with any woman who'd let him. Afterwards, he held her, and kissed her shoulder. She reached across his chest to touch the handprint again.

"Castiel was a good soldier. Fast. Smart, but always obedient, loyal. Something of an idealist. He was sweet, too, sweeter than most of the angels." Her eyes seemed to go to a distant memory, and her lips curved in a smile.

"Cas's all right. He did save me. But I don't get why he's so loyal to a missing commander." Dean pulled her hand away, reached for his shirt. "Don't forget that he's got a hit out on you."

"I think you could relate to him more than you know. He's dealing with the same absent father issues as us, after all," Anna cocked her head to the side, "I forgive him for following his orders. I understand why he does as he does. I think it is hardly his desire to kill me."

"You think so? I feel like I shouldn't trust him, logically, but I do anyway." Dean got out of the Impala, zipping his pants as he exited.

"I think you should. I think if you do, the result will surprise both of you," she said, following.

They both stood, leaning against the Impala, looking up at the sky.

"My Father demands forgiveness from the angels, and from the devout," Anna finally said, "And I think that it would be easy for me to refuse the idea out of spite, but after being human, I finally understand why we are steered towards the concept of forgiveness. It's not healthy to resent. It's not healthy to hate, and cultivate bitterness, the same as it's not healthy to keep your pain locked away. Anything you lock away like that festers, and becomes so much more, it overcomes everything you are, eventually, and all that's left is a husk. We forgive so we can move on, and accept things as they are."

"Huh. I get not letting shit fester, but I refuse to accept things as they are."

"I don't mean the Apocalypse, Dean, I mean humans. You have to accept humans as they are; accept your family as they are. If Cas must kill me, I forgive him that. Perhaps that would be enough to wake him up, cause him to feel. I don't think God is the one providing the reason anymore, but I believe there is reason for everything, even the horror."

They were silent again, and finally they went inside to try to rest up before the battle. Uriel came to Dean in his dreams almost instantly.

_Castiel likes me?_ Dean thought, on their way to meet the angels, _Well, I guess. I guess I kinda like him. At least, I like him and Anna as much as I dislike Uriel. That junkless douche knows too much about Hell for my comfort, and he has no problem using any of it against me. I don't think we're quite at the point of kicking back with some cold ones during the big game yet, but yeah. I think Cas is all right._

That was probably why he felt it was the right thing to do to keep Cas from being exorcised. _And because fuck Alistair. I will gut that son of a bitch if I get the chance,_ Dean thought bitterly, after the angels disappeared, _I will destroy him for everything he did to me. _

He took a few calming breaths, refocused on the other events of the night. _Was that anger or gratitude in Cas's eyes tonight? Do I forgive him?_ Dean thought about the wide, blue eyes, and about Anna's last kiss as she forgave him. _Fuck. She's right, about it all. I gotta trust Cas, I gotta come clean with Sammy. I can't keep going like this, I gotta make it better._

Telling Sam didn't make it better. All it did was make him remember more, and hate everything more.

* * *

><p>It was the night after the Anna situation resolved and he talked to Sammy about Hell that the second sex dream occurred. He was with Megan Fox and she was super into Dean, and knew all about the Impala's engine. She was on top of him, soft and ready and then suddenly Castiel was astride Dean instead. He twisted his hand around Dean's cock, and smiled innocently.<p>

"Cas? Is that really you?" Dean tried desperately to dream something else. Apparently-Dream-Cas ignored Dean, slithered down his body, and lowered his mouth onto his cock, and it felt better than anything Dean had ever had on it. Castiel looked up with his lovely eyes as Dean climaxed and there was a mischievous glint in them that Real-Cas had probably never had.

"Give it to me," he said, "Or we will be laid to waste." Dean woke up to sticky sheets and deep emotional confusion.

* * *

><p>Dean kept moving after coming clean with Sam about Hell. Dreaming held nothing for him that he wanted- sexual confusion or worst case scenario, anal rape and torture nightmares. A little over a month later, there was still no word from Cas, which was fine by Dean. He didn't need the fucking angel to rescue him from his nightmares; he didn't even need to sleep. Problem solved. Dean and Sam did their Dean-and-Sam Stuff, which these days was bouncing between sentimental brother moments, usually involving crying near the Impala, and bickering about everything, ever. There was also a good deal of back and forthing about Sam's super fun new habits and Dean's stint as Hell's own Marquis de Sade.<p>

It was the night after the magic show, and the amazingly depressing Jay had just left them. Sam had gone for a walk, and Dean had had a beer chased by a bottle of whiskey, and headed to the motel alone, trying to fall asleep in the hotel. The heater was ridiculously loud, and the sheets were itchy, and Dean hadn't really slept… well, since the last dream about Cas. He was terrified of dreaming about torture, or worse, Dream-Cas's amazing talents. _As if the fucking bondage club hadn't been enough brain trauma for a lifetime, not to mention, you know, Hell._ But if he didn't sleep, he was really going to just burn the fuck out.

Unconsciousness, finally. He was on sun-kissed beach on an island in the middle of nowhere and lay on the sand, the stress of everything melting away. Well, that was a shock.

Castiel appeared. "Hello," he rumbled.

Dean glanced at him, sitting neatly on the beach in the usual giant trench coat.

"Hi. Where the hell have you been?" he asked bluntly, uninterested in bullshit.

"Fighting. Losing. I need to ask you a question," Castiel said, face urgent and grim.

"Okay, shoot." Dean didn't have the energy to be contrary.

"What does it mean when you think you might be ended? When you are convinced for a moment that your time as living is over? When your palms are wet and your blood rushes too quickly from your extremities?"

"What?" Dean was confused for a minute. "Do you mean fear? Being afraid?"

"Angels do not feel fear. Angels do not _feel_, not as humans do," Cas looked sideways annoyed at Dean.

"'Okay, fine, but I think what you just described was fear."

Castiel stared off into the ocean for a long time, both men silent. Dean focused on a cooler of beer. One appeared next to him. _Awesome,_ he thought. He opened a beer, offered it to Cas. The angel accepted, and sipped hesitantly. _Okay, _Dean thought, _Maybe we are at the kickin' back with cold ones point, after all._ He opened his own.

"I came for another reason, Dean. The dream you shared with me, of the Magnificent Seven. I'm sorry that I haven't been able to visit you since. I found it very interesting."

"It's cool. Is interesting a good thing?" Dean asked.

"I believe so. Your race has a great many stories. I used to read them, but there became too many after a certain point to interest me. But there was one I remember fondly. I thought I could share it with you," Cas looked at Dean sideways again, this time though lowered eyelashes.

"Uh, yeah. Okay. That would be cool, Cas," Dean was taken aback. Suddenly, Cas disappeared and a beautiful blonde nymph shimmered into being next to him.

""Poor man, spend no more time in sorrow on this island or waste your life away. My heart agrees—the time has come for me to send you off!" she said.

* * *

><p>Dean and Penelope made sweet, sweet love.<p>

"That was awesome, Cas, thank you," Dean said as the dream ended, and he woke. To his surprise, Castiel sat right exactly next to him on the bed. Dean could _smell_ the angel again, like atmosphere and spice.

_That's a nice smell_, crossed Dean's mind, and he looked up at Cas, who murmured, "You're welcome." They looked directly into each other's eyes, and for a second Dean thought Castiel might lean in and kiss him and the thought was too fucking much for his masculinity, so Dean rolled away from the angel abruptly and got defensive.

"Dude! Personal space!" he snapped.

"What?" Cas looked slightly hurt, which Dean was appalled to find he thought was adorable.

"Men have bubbles, Cas, not real bubbles, but imaginary bubbles of personal space, where other men do not enter unless it is for a brief, manly hug or saving his life. Maybe get a cell phone, call first, enter though the door? Bubbles!" he gestured emphatically, but Cas now looked so confused, that Dean decided to let it go. "Yeah. Space. Anyway. That was fun, the dream. What was it?" Dean asked, holding the sheet around his waist and locating clean pants.

"Homer's 'The Odyssey. He was a Greek poet."

"Thanks again, man. Look, I gotta hit the showers. Stuff to do. Later." Dean made a swift exit into the bathroom. He turned the water on ice cold, full balst and hopped in as fast as he could. As he scrubbed the angel's eyes from his body, he tried not to think about his Cas-dreams, or about how Cas might look underneath that ridiculous suit. _What the hell is wrong with me? I like girls, beautiful, soft, girls with breasts and pussies. Fucking fuck._ His mind kept wandering from the girls to the blue eyes and ruffled hair and those fucking soul probing looks that Cas always gave him. _Fuck._

* * *

><p>It was the morning before they encountered the Siren that Cas visited Dean's dreams again. This visit was much less pleasant than the last, but less confusing.<p>

"Sam has not ceased his extracurriculars," Cas appeared suddenly, yanking Dean from a fitful recollection of slicing open a soul on the rack.

"I know. I can't control him, Cas, you think I don't want him to stop?"

"You are going to have to find a way to stop him, Dean, I don't know how else to make it clear. Also, these nightmares. I am truly sorry that I cannot always be here to pull you out. You need to talk to someone about them, stop repressing all this pain and hurt. You need to deal with these issues so we can focus on saving the world."

"Oh, sure, no problem. I'll get right on that," Dean glared at him, "It's not that fucking easy. I can't make Sam stop and I don't need to deal with any issues, I'm fucking fine."

"You barely sleep, you're hunting while seals continue to break, and Sam is in your charge. I don't understand why you are being resistant; I ask of you only what you should already be doing. "

"Look, just fuck off, Cas. You don't get it. You won't get it. Leave me alone."

Dean woke up suddenly. Sam was in the bathroom, talking in a muffled voice. _Fuck,_ Dean thought irately.

* * *

><p>Cas wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. As he'd watched Dean deal with Haniel, he'd envied Dean's certainty as to what was right, and the decisiveness with which he acted.<p>

Heaven, however, disagreed. Zachariah, the Seraph in charge of Cas, was livid with Cas for allowing Haniel's Grace to be restored, and took it out on everyone. Zachariah also ordered Cas to deal with Sam Winchester, but had told him that he was not allowed to directly interfere with Sam's choice, was not allowed to actually kill Sam. All Cas could do was influence Dean to stop Sam, and it frustrated Castiel that not only was he ordered to pressure Dean, but Zachariah kept Cas busy with trivial skirmishes, ones that could have been won without his help, while more serious battles were lost. It also interfered with helping Dean with his nightmares, and each time Cas saw the hunter, he was suprised to feel an ache in his chest at the pain Dean was going through.

* * *

><p>Dean's life was, as usual, generally messy, unpleasant and morally depressing, leaving him confused about everything. He was alone, drinking, and trying to sort out the mess inside his skull.<p>

Dean didn't trust his brother, he hadn't for as long time, but after the Siren mojo'ed them both, Dean was feeling ickier about it than usual. It had been so easy to slip under its spell, so easy to genuinely feel what it told him to. He already thought that Sammy, his Sammy, was gone, already had felt him slipping away, knew Sam's activities weren't right and if Dean had spoken his true feeling while under the Siren's spell, then he figured Sam had, too. Sam believed he was a better hunter, that Dean was weak and pathetic. Dean already knew he was, he didn't need his little brother to throw it in his face as well. _This is all my fault. _He had left Sam alone on earth, broken in Hell, tortured, fucked up almost everything he touched since he'd been back, and then had to have Bobby come save his ass. Again. Then Pamela's death, and Tessa's disparaging words, the icing on his this-fucking-sucks-cake. Everyone around him seemed to need to tell him out loud the things his inner demons whispered in his ears all the time.

_Whatever_, he pushed it all down and away and continued to drink. _I'm just so fucking tired._

Sam opened the door, saw Dean's drink and wisely said nothing about it, simply, "The service starts in an hour. We should go, soon."


	5. Don't Answer Me

**Chapter Five: Don't Answer Me**

Cas stood in the empty torture chamber. He could still smell the blood, angel, demon and human, thick and metallic in the hot, stifled room. Castiel had hated asking Dean to torture. He suspected it was Uriel's idea, but regardless, it seemed like there was no other option. _We all do God's work, after all,_ he thought, but the thought didn't offer any comfort this time. Maybe part of him had hoped that having Dean take his revenge on Alistair would help him heal, but hearing the screams of pain and Dean's rumbling taunts had shown Cas how wrong that was. Then, Haniel chastised him, and he realized how incredibly much he hurt Dean by asking that of him, how much he had abused Dean's shaky trust in Cas. It was not lost on Cas that Dean had agreed because he, Castiel asked it of him, and for no other reason, and the first thing honestly asked for, and received, was a gross betrayal on Castiel's part. The feelings he now realized were guilt, shame and fear were ever present, these days. _I went from one extreme to the other, and avoided the middle entirely,_ he thought, _I thought things would be clearer, after some time, and consideration, but they aren't. _

He kept coming back to the worst realization at all- _I was Dean Winchester's guardian, and I have failed him_. _I had sent him back into a hell, of sorts, with the very person that broke him. _Castiel had never felt so lost- everything inside of him was telling him to question the orders of Heaven, the orders that had been all he had known, and worse, his superiors were noticing. They had demoted him already, the shortest amount of time ever that an angel had led a garrison, due to his feelings, of course. Uriel had replaced him.

Once, he and Uriel had gotten along well, before Haniel fell. They had been friends, as well as brothers. Something had changed in Uriel, more and more everyday, and it saddened Castiel more than he could have ever thought possible to think what he was now thinking about Uriel. _There I go again,_ he thought, _questioning my superiors, questioning Heaven._

Obedience was no longer his only option. His other option was Haniel, voicing the doubts in his gut, telling him what he already suspected. Which was almost worse, because if it was just in his head, then he was wrong, he was crazy, but if she felt it too… _Maybe I'm not defective. Maybe things are seriously wrong._ _But by the time I asked for her guidance, she wasn't willing to offer it, and why would she? She left me once before, why wouldn't she leave me now? What else is there to do?_

The fear wasn't his only emotion. There was something else, fleeting but pleasant, there with vigor whenever he pleased Dean, more quietly if he was just in the presence of the hunter, something Castiel had yet to label. Now, he found his thoughts drifting back to that long-ago kiss on the sands with Haniel, and worse, drifting to the way he'd felt when she touched the mark he left on Dean, the sensations of skin on skin, of Dean's skin on his skin. Castiel knew that was the worst possible thing he could want, the most taboo.

Castiel sighed, and looked at the broken devil's trap. He shut of the dripping evidence of angelic betrayal. _I am so lost, so alone. Everything I have ever had faith in is crumbling around me. Any of us can do wrong. Lucifer was an angel, he was the most beloved angel, and he Fell. Haniel Fell. None of us are innocent, anymore.  
><em>

Uriel appeared quietly. "You called?" he asked.

* * *

><p>Cas wanted to offer Dean reassurance, take him in his arms, hold him to his chest and promise that everything would be okay, but instead, he only placed his hand gently over Dean's, as Haniel had done to him earlier, and sat until the tears stopped. Cas brushed two fingers softly across Dean's forehead, and gave him pleasant dreams, at least. Castiel left the sleeping Dean, and went to Zachariah.<p>

"You have to help him. We asked too much of him. I asked too much of him. I am not a fit guardian. Please. Help him. Give him a better guardian."

"It's not that easy, Castiel. You're his guardian. It's hardly our fault you can't control yourself when it comes to those boys. Get a handle on yourself, act like an angel again, for heaven's sake."

"I am clearly unfit, insufficient. Uriel-"

"Uriel was dealt with, we'll take care of his cronies. No, you'll remain the Winchester's guardian, that's final. But you will behave yourself from this point on, or you will be punished, do I make myself clear?" Zachariah's voice took on a threatening tone. Castiel nodded, eyes lowered. "However. You are right that we asked too much of him. The torture… I will do what I can. Put him back in touch with his inner Dean."

Zachariah kept Cas busy for the next week, and by the time Cas found out that Zachariah's idea of 'helping' Dean was to mindfuck and then scold him, it was too late to stop the damage from being done. Zachariah actually seemed to be going out of his way to keep them separate, at first. Cas voiced no objections, but every fiber of his being ached to go to Dean, and he couldn't keep the thoughts of touching Dean, holding him, offering him comfort and solace as Haniel had, out of his head, no matter how hard he tried.

Then he was sent to stop Dean from hurting the Prophet, Chuck Shurley, probably because it was obvious that Dean wouldn't listen to any angel but Castiel. When he saw Dean again, the urge to reach out and stroke the hunter's cheek was baffling and almost overwhelming to him, but instead he focused on the task at hand. He paged through the book in hand, reading _Dean kissed her back, and they began frantically tearing at each other's clothing. She pulled up his shirt, revealing his chiseled pectorals, as he ran his strong hands over her ebony skin. She pushed him down on the bed, her tongue intertwining with his as their passion rose to a fevered pitch. He could take it no longer, and pulled her down under him, his golden shoulders rippling with tension as he parted her quivering thighs and thrust his enormous-_

Cas stopped reading. _That was not helpful, _he thought, repressing the urge to adjust his vessel's genitals._  
><em>

Chuck went up the stairs, muttering uncomfortably.

"There is more, Dean. I meant to tell you sooner. Sam… When he took out Alistair, it was… I don't know how, but he's getting stronger, darker. It was nothing to him, like he was squishing an insect."

"I know, man. I don't know what to do about Sammy. Where the hell have you been, anyway? Did you know about that crap Zarchariah pulled?"

"I didn't until after. I am sorry, Zachariah is… He is my superior. I must do as he orders," Cas wanted so badly to tell Dean what he wanted to hear, but it would do no good, "I'm sorry, Dean. I can't help you any more." He vanished without another word.

It was hardly an hour later that Cas heard Dean pray. He knew that God would not answer his prayers, and he couldn't bear to let them go entirely unacknowledged. Besides, he thought he knew of a way to help without being found out.

When Dean grew angry at him, this time it didn't infuriate Cas. It hurt his feelings. He felt horrible, wanted to do anything he could to make Dean like him again. _That is disconcerting and uncomfortable, _he thought.

It never occurred to him that by giving Dean that simple information, he was ensuring that Destiny stayed on course.

* * *

><p>Dean knew Cas had felt he had no choice but asking Dean to torture Alistair- but if he was going to be honest with himself, he was going fucking crazy, and that had nearly pushed him over the edge.<p>

_I think there really is no such thing as miracles,_ Dean thought morosely, and drank some more whiskey, _How am I supposed to deal with not only being a fucking sadist but also jumpstarting the damn Apocalypse?_

At least Alistair was dead. Dean had felt sick when confronted with his rapist, his torturer. _Mentor?_ he thought, and shuddered. More whiskey. _There's not enough fucking whiskey to wash this away, _he thought. The torture, the guilt… He felt a horrible rush of addictive power when he tortured, so strong, like he could break anyone, anything that opposed him. He guessed that was what drug addicts felt, or Sam with his fucking psychic crap. It was a part of himself he was terrified of. If it hadn't been Cas, begging… 

_Why do I trust that fucking feathered nerd instinctively? He obviously has no problem manipulating us, _Dean reconsidered it as soon as he thought it, _Okay, he has a problem with it, but he does it anyway. Fucking angels, especially that Zachariah douche nozzle. I hate how those fucking angels think they can just pick us up and plop us in alternate realities rather than just come right out and tell us what the fuck we need to know. They expect me to bend over and take this fucking destiny crap up the ass, just like fucking Alistair… And what the fuck is decoupage, anyway? How the fuck do you view this fucked up bullshit we go thorough every goddamn day as a gift?_

The books were fucking insane. He thought he might have liked Chuck Shurley under different circumstances- an spastic, sarcastic alcoholic was Dean's sort of guy, but he couldn't get on board with the Supernatural books. Or maybe it was the fans that freaked him out. _What sort of people get off on incest porn? _he shuddered. _  
><em>

Chuck was interesting, though, almost as interesting as what he had told Dean on the ride to the motel.

"I like your angel," he'd said, nervously wiping at his nose.

"He's not my angel," Dean said irately.

"Of course he is. You think it's normal for an angel to treat you the way he treats you? Think about you the way he does? The looks you guys share? If you wanna talk 'Dear Penthouse-'"

Dean looked over at the prophet in surprise. "No. No penthouse. Uh, Cas thinks about me?"

"Oh yeah, and you think about him, too. There's something there, some sort of profound bond. I don't know what it is, exactly, but you two… Eesh. If you think the slash girls are bad now, imagine if they could read the shit with you and Cas."

"No more books, Chuck. Pocket, gun, remember? And he's not my fucking angel." Dean had refused to speak about it any more.

Dean took another shot, irritated by the memory. _Fuck, _ he thought, and repressed it all the only way he knew, alcohol. He fell asleep in the Impala.

Cas visited Dean in his dreams again that night. Dean was dreaming of Hell again, of cutting into a sobbing woman stretched on the rack while the Yorkie looked on and yapped incessantly.

Cas pulled him out, brought him to a field in Montana, filled with a herd of wild Mustangs.

"Huh. Nice," Dean said, looking around, "Thanks again for the help, man."

"I'm sorry that it was all I could do."

"Why do you help us, Cas?" Dean asked, looking at the angel intently.

"I- Um. I help because I think that it is the right thing to do." Cas looked uncomfortable.

"Liar."

"What?" Cas was puzzled.

"You help because you like me. Uriel and Chuck both said as much. So did Zachariah. Even you, you said you got demoted or whatever because you were too attached to us, but you don't trust Sammy anymore than I do, so it's me you like, isn't it?" Dean was still looking at him intensely.

"I suppose I do. I… I should not. Angels are not supposed to feel anything but love for our Father. My superiors… They would punish me severely if I turned against them for your sake."

"How severely?"

Cas was silent, but his eyes held a somberness that scared Dean.

"Okay, I get it. But I gotta tell you, I don't like it. I don't think it can be wrong to care about someone. You know in your gut what's right and what's wrong, man, and I trust you to make the right call when it comes down to the wire."

Cas's eyes softened. "Thank you, Dean. That means…" Suddenly, he looked up, fear darkening the brilliant eyes, "But it doesn't matter. I serve God, not you," and then he was gone. Dean woke suddenly, smacking his head into the window of the Impala.

After all that fucking angst, then Adam happened. Another little brother he'd failed, another way he'd failed to carry out his father's wishes. That was just super to have as a nice bookend of his nightmare life so far. _Which is to say, just barely. _Another shot of whiskey. _Fuck this shit,_ he thought, _it's bad enough that seeing Adam made me fucking jealous, but watching Sammy spout the bitter hunting mantras Dad drilled into our heads… We're so fucking lost. It used to give me so much faith that Sammy was always the optimist, always my voice of reason._

Dean realized, for the first time, that the feeling chewing away at his brain was complete, abject terror.

* * *

><p><em>Time to think for myself.<em> Castiel had only recently figured out how to do that. What he was about to attempt was insane. He was insane. He had so much more important matters to think about than how Dean's lips might feel pressed against his, but that idea kept popping into his thoughts despite the delicacy of the situation he was in. _Where did this preoccupation come from?_ he wondered, and then almost faltered in his careful steps. _Pay attention, Castiel._ He told himself sternly, edged a little closer and- there!

Zachariah's voice was barely audible. "Castiel is entirely too fond of those boys, if you know what I mean. Personally, I think he's been in love with Dean since he yanked him from the Pit. You heard what the Prophet saw. Can't let him get too attached to the Vessel.."

_Vessel?_ Castiel looked down at the arms of Jimmy Novak. Then, _Love?_

Michael spoke. "Does Castiel know?"

"About the Final Seal? No, and he can't find out. Damn Powers, with their moral superiority complexes. We might have to take him to Corrections anyway. We'll see. It's risky business."

"Just get the final seal broken so we can have Paradise. I'm tired of waiting!" Michael hissed sharply.

It all fell into place for Castiel, the lost skirmishes, the unnecessarily cruel orders from superiors. He had to warn Dean about the Final Seal.

* * *

><p>When Dean looked at Jimmy, he saw nothing there that was Cas. There was nothing of the probing eyes, the delicious smell- Jimmy Novak smelled only of scared, sweaty dude. Seeing emotion on the formerly familiar face was creeping Dean out, not to mention he found Jimmy's voice grating. It didn't stop him from feeling really, really bad for the guy- Cas's reassurance that the man had prayed for it really had left a lot of important info out.<p>

_What does this mean for Cas?_ he wondered,_ Is he dead? Will he take another vessel? What if they never let him come back to earth?_ The thought of never seeing Cas again scared him as much as the thought of seeing him again.

When he did see Cas again, he was incredibly hurt and disappointed. Cas manipulated Jimmy and when he told Dean again that he served God and not Dean, Dean couldn't see the glimmer of caring in his eyes.

* * *

><p>Zachariah made him pay for trying to warn Dean. He tore Cas from his vessel, put him through Corrections, Heaven's own brain bleaching facilities. He strongly reminded Cas of the implications of betrayal, the consequences of falling. He showed Cas what it was to be cut off from the Host, to be utterly alone. He showed Cas the paradise that would come if Dean and Sam would just play their roles. He promised Cas that the Winchesters would know peace if Cas obeyed, and swore that they down be damned forever if he did not.<p>

Castiel saw fully the error of his ways, and wanted very much to return to being a Good Little Angel. He had every intention of cutting off his ties to the Winchesters. When he saw the woman and child, he almost felt regret, and repressed it. Then, he saw those eyes, those infuriating hazel-green eyes, and he did feel for a moment and then mentally shook himself free of any emotion. Zachariah had ordered him back into the daughter, thinking that it would make things more difficult for Cas, but he couldn't stay in her and keep his vow to Jimmy. He prayed Zachariah would let that disobedience go, in light of his greater compliance.

When Dean prayed himself hoarse for over two hours, Castiel couldn't ignore it anymore. He also knew he had to extract a promise from Dean, and there was no point in putting it off. He could barely look into the hazel green eyes, couldn't stop the guilt from rising as he lied, didn't want to stand near the human and feel the despair radiating from Dean's body. He hated manipulating Dean, felt like someone twisted what passed for his heart when Dean called him a dick. He thought he understood what humans referred to as heartbreak when he made Dean promise.

"That's it?" Dean looked skeptical and suspicious.

Castiel didn't want to meet the eyes again, but he looked up anyway. He wasn't sure why. Dean was standing very close to him; lips slightly parted, then shook his head and lowered his eyes. The moment stretched on and on, and Cas nearly reached out a dozen times. He wanted- no. He disappeared with a clap of his wings.

Cas stared at the door to the panic room for a long time. If he opened it, he knew it was something Dean could never forgive. It would be the worst betrayal, worse than lying. Finally he reminded himself that if Sam killed Lilith, it could all be over, all of the guilt and pain would end and Sam and Dean could be as they were before the demons.

He also knew Haniel would come if he asked her too. He knew she'd be punished, but he told himself it was for her own good. Reprogramming had to be best for Haniel. He wanted his sister back.

All Castiel could do was watch. Now that he knew the truth, there was nothing to do but keep an eye on the Winchesters, and wait. He watched Sam and Ruby- He watched as Dean and Sam hit each other, marveled for a moment at the love shining in Dean as he begged his brother to stop, almost cried out as he saw the thread tying the brothers together snap as Sam walked out the door. He knew it was entirely his fault as he watched Dean drive home in angry silence.

The second Dean decided to go after Sam again, Cas got the order to bring him to the Green Room. _This has to be for the best_, he told himself, _This has to be what will save us all._

Dean refused to talk to him, and walked around the room touching things instead. _Why does he do that?_ Cas wondered, _Put his fingers all over everything? Would he put them all over me- no. That's inappropriate. _ He felt ashamed again, in a new, depressing way.

He had to physically restrain himself , hands behind his back, from throwing himself on Zachariah when he lied to and threatened Dean. _How can this be the will of God? Why does this feel so bad when it's supposed to be right?_

The contrite look on Dean's face when Cas saw the broken statue almost broke Cas's resolve again, but he knew Zachariah was watching.

He had to go to Dean again, had to apologize in some way, because his guilt would not let him rest otherwise.

Dean hit him.

Dean's words conjured up images in Cas's mind, images of families- Jimmy's, Dean's, of friends, of the moments he and Dean had shared in the dreaming. Cas tried to justify his actions, but the words were empty now. He tried to look away because it hurt so much to see the myriad of emotions in Dean's eyes. Dean forced him to return his look despite that. The green eyes begged him to choose Dean over everything Castiel had ever known. he couldn't face them another moment.

* * *

><p>Castiel was in the trees at the meadow. He didn't feel like he deserved the sunlit grass, but he didn't know where else to go. Nothing in his existence compared to the shame he felt when Dean Winchester dressed him- <em>him, <em>an _angel _of the _lord_- down. The guilt and pain and confusion could have been coming from Dean, but Castiel thought it was coming from himself, and he understood for the first time, why Dean thought that destiny might just be a way to keep everyone in line and the appeal of choice over destiny. The thought that Dean was disappointed in him, that Dean didn't want Castiel in his life if Cas sided with Zachariah… The thought of losing Dean chilled Cas to the fucking bone.

_Maybe I can create my own destiny,_ Castiel thought. He disappeared from the trees. _If nothing else, I believe in Dean Winchester. _

* * *

><p>Dean felt a hand on his shoulder and was pinned to the wall by Castiel. He recognized the look in the sapphire eyes. He had Dean's back. When Dean looked back at the scope of their relationship, someday, he would realize that this was the moment he started to fall in love with Castiel, but at the time all he knew was that Cas had come through for him.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Castiel is dead and he doesn't feel anything or know anything at all. From his perspective, there is just Raphael bringing down the Wrath of Heaven upon his head, and then an infinite void of nothing.<em>

* * *

><p>Suddenly, Earth again, as if nothing had ever happened to his vessel, except Cas couldn't feel Jimmy's soul anymore. He felt the now-familiar physical sensations of inhabiting a vessel, and the urges of the vessel, but whatever made it Jimmy Novak was gone.<p>

When he went to check on Dean, of course he was still in trouble, but he was alive! Cas felt the knot in his gut vanish when he felt Dean's presence, instantly replaced by anger at the horrible failure of the plan to stop the Apocalypse. He rescued them from Zachariah, but when they asked him why he was back, he vanished, because he had no answer to give, and he was incredibly angry at Sam, and even at Dean for allowing this to happen, for failing him. It wasn't their fault, of course, they were human, flawed. It was his mistake for putting his faith in something other than his Father. _I allowed these feelings to control my actions._ he thought unhappily.

Who else but his Father could have saved them? If the Winchesters were not on the right path already, God would not have saved them all. Castiel wanted to believe that with everything he had left in him to believe. If it was God who saved them, Cas couldn't understand why his Father would bring him back, save Sam and Dean, but not come to their aid, not set things right.

_But who else could restore me? _he wondered, and then pushed the thought from his head, _It had to be God. I have to find him, have to ask him why, convince him to help us. I cannot go on like this. I cannot… I am not strong enough to feel this way. Even if the Host is flawed, God is not. I will find him, he will help me._

He went to the Vatican Library, invisibly searching for something, anything that would give him a clue. When he finally found it, he could scarcely believe that the one item that could help him had been in the Winchester's possession the entire time.

He was frustrated at his inability to help Bobby Singer. He rather liked the man. He was also frustrated in Dean's reluctance to hand over the amulet. But he did, and Cas vanished.

He spent a week retracing God's steps. The last time they knew of his exact location was in Nazareth, on a Friday in April in the year 5 BC. Retracing his Father's footsteps proved near impossible, and at last, Castiel gave up, and decided to find another way. He turned to investigating the archangels who had seen God. Raphael was walking the earth, he discovered, although he didn't know why. He tracked him to Waterville, Maine. At that point, he realized that the last time he had gone up against Raphael, he had died. He would need help. _Who is there to help me?_ he thought, realizing suddenly how incredibly alone he was now.


	6. You Shook Me All Night Long

_Author's note: There's a lot more sex from this point on. This is the only scene written in both character's perspectives, which I know is awkward, but I wanted to try. The rest are not._

**Chapter Six: You Shook Me All Night Long**

The idea that Cas was dead was incomprehensible to Dean. He looked away from Sam and Chuck, wanting to cry for a moment and then beating down the emotion. He thought, _if Cas was dead, I'd feel it, somehow, like when Sammy died, like a part of myself was gone, too._ _I'm not in love with the dorky angel, but after what Cas did for me, I gotta admit that there's an unbreakable bond there. I'd know if he was really dead._

The events that unfolded next kept him too busy to dwell on Cas, and all too soon, he was facing down Zachariah again. As the sadistic son-of-a-bitch tried to apply the right pressure to make Dean cave, Dean almost laughed a little inside. _Funny how the hell the angels put me through made me hardened enough to say no to Zack while Sammy bleeds out._

When Cas saved him, he felt an overwhelming wave of relief, _Cas, alive, deadly and fucking kicking ass_. If Dean hadn't been cancer ridden, he might have leaped over to Cas and hugged the shit out of him.

The angel was brusque, leaving abruptly, and that quelled his happiness. _Cas was dead and I didn't feel it at all. But at least he's back now, _Dean thought, _even if he bailed right away._

When Cas came to them at the hospital, his attitude made more sense. Dean was surprised at Cas's anger, he didn't like it at all and started to get pissed, but then he saw the desperation in the blue eyes, and realized the enormity Cas had given for him, and how epically he had failed Cas.

"Dean. Give it to me." Dean thought for a moment that the demand was laced with righteousness, and began to form a angry "no", but as he studied the tired eyes, he realized Cas was speaking with desperation and quiet determination.

"All right, I guess."

By the next day, Sam left him. He wasn't sure what had happened bring Sam to that conclusion, but he didn't have it in him to argue. Dean thought he'd feel something, watching Sam go, but he didn't, just numb. After everything, Sam was a reminder of how badly he had failed everyone, a reminder of how much he'd lost. He didn't need that.

* * *

><p>The angel was in his bubble again, and he smelled <em>delicious<em>, like pie and that bizarre angel spice, sweet and mysterious. _Sunshine? Stardust?_ Dean was reflexively crabby and moved away before he could start smelling him again. He hadn't heard from Cas in weeks, and now he just shows up, demanding help? Okay, begging for help. Dean suddenly realized how incredibly alone and desperate Castiel was. Morally, he had to help Cas now, he'd promised.

_Just don't smell him,_ Dean told himself.

The drive to Maine was interesting. Dean popped in his old mix tape from when he and his Dad used to hunt together.

"Okay, Cas. I showed you a movie, and you showed me a poem. So now, I'm gonna show you the beauty of classic rock and muscle cars. Mix tapes are a time-honored driving tradition."

Castiel merely raised an eyebrow as _Stairway to Heaven_ began. When _Carry On_ played, he tipped his head to the side. The next song was _Baba O'Riley_. Cas was smiling; he looked at Dean, and said, "I believe I like this 'classic rock'. But the car is a confining, frustrating vehicle. I prefer to fly."

"Dude, do not diss the Impala, she and I, we're the one true pairing in my life, my true love," Dean patted the steering wheel affectionately.

"Humans cannot share intimacy with inanimate objects," Cas pointed out.

"Oh, people find ways," Dean smiled dementedly. They were silent as _Over the Hills and Far Away_ played, and Cas was smiling again. He liked that Cas appreciated Zeppelin.

"Are you in love, Dean?" Cas asked, as the last chords echoed through the car. Dean turned down _Back in Black_ a little, so he could talk.

"Heh, no. Hunters, we can't afford to love. It's too dangerous to give the forces of darkness that sort of advantage over us," Dean frowned.

"Were you ever in love?" Cas cocked his head to the side.

"A few times, I thought I might be. This yoga instructor, Lisa. She was pretty amazing. Another hunter, Cassie. A girl named Jo, family friend. She was spunky, fearless. I coulda loved her, in another life… I start to care, and then I remember I can't afford to involve anyone in our lives. We die every other week, it wouldn't be fair to drag someone else into an apocalypse," Dean sighed.

"Do you think about it, on occasion?"

"Falling in love?"

Cas inclined his head.

"Yeah. I think about Lisa a lot. She really was somethin' special. Brave, beautiful, spunky. Bendy. She had this kid, Ben. Coolest kid ever, man," Dean smiled at the memory, "Actually… I kinda think Ben is my kid. I… He's a really cool kid. Lisa… I don't think she wants me to worry about them. But I think about 'em, a lot. If I was gonna fall in love. Yeah. Anyway. Angels don't fall in love?"

"We... form pair bonds. Occasionally. We love our Father, mostly."

"Well, that sounds like buttloads of fun."

"It was not unpleasant, at times," Cas's lips twitched in that charming almost smile. Dean tried to decide which he found more appealing- Cas almost smiling or Cas out and out grinning. _Okay, stop that. You don't like his smile at all. You just feel more comfortable when he's not acting like a Vulcan, _he told himself sternly.

"Yeah. Somehow, I doubt anyone could really enjoy being heaven's little bitch." Dean snorted.

"It wasn't always like that." Castiel looked wistful for a moment.

Dean turned the music back up. Now it was _No One Like You._ He snuck a glance at Cas. His pink, enticing lips were pursed in thought. _I should get him some lip balm- _Dean caught himself before the evil Cas-kisses thoughts could invade his brain.

* * *

><p>Dean was very grateful that the cop hadn't gotten suspicious of Castiel's spastic behavior, as hilarious and adorable as he unwillingly found it. Cas had left him alone in the abandoned house for an unspecified amount of time, and Dean was tired and horny, worked up from the all-day constant Cas contact. He sat on the tattered couch, and unzipped his pants. He slid his hand down, and thought about his weekend with Lisa, a decade ago. The bending, oh God, the bending… Then, like some unholy compulsion, as Dean hovered on the brink of orgasm, Dream-Cas's miracle blow job popped into his mind, and he came.<p>

Dean was in a foul mood when Cas returned. He brightened at the prospect of a night of drinking and whoring, though, a nice re-affirming of his sexuality, and proof of Cas's was just what he needed.

_Awesome. _Dean thought, and then later _What's that screaming?_ It was hilarious in the end, but Cas was still virginal. _Some things just aren't meant to be,_ he told himself as he and Cas got in the Impala. _Black Dog_ came on as they drove to the motel. Dean was mildly buzzed, and Castiel seemed to enjoy the taste of beer if not feel the effects, so Dean stopped at liquor store, and got a random assortment of bottled beers together.

* * *

><p>Dean insisted they get a motel room for the night, as he required things like beds with Magic Fingers and television for comfort. Cas drank as much as Dean, but Dean descended into a silly, relaxed, drunken state that the angel didn't reach. There was a tension to Cas's body that Dean wanted to erase, or maybe that was because Dean insisted on showing him the Magic Fingers, and Cas was not as big a fan of the vibrating bed as Dean was. They lay sprawled on the bed, Cas's trench coat on the floor, Dean's bare feet hanging over the end of the bed. Cas refused to remove his socks, but Dean convinced him not to put his shoes on the bed. Dean's legs had somehow become crossed with Cas's, but he was too drunk to care. <em>Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid<em> was playing on some movie channel, and he was pleased as punch with how the day had gone. He hadn't felt this good, this relaxed in… _Fuck, _he sobered a little, remembering again how very long it had been.

Castiel was extremely nervous. The alcohol, the stress of the impending doom and the den of inequity, the proximity to Dean, all of these things were wreaking havoc inside the angel's head. He couldn't stop having the urge to reach over and touch Dean… anywhere. He wanted that skin on skin contact from his vision, increasingly desperately. He didn't know what to do, or say, exactly to instigate the contact, but he felt a compulsion to do something to distract himself.

"Who are Bert and Ernie? And why are they happy?" Castiel asked suddenly. He kept shifting his arms, as if he didn't know what to do with them.

"Uhh… Well." Dean's drunken mind tried to figure how to explain homosexuality to a smiter of sodomites. "When guys fall in love with other guys… or if they fuck em'… We call 'em gay. 'M not sure why. And Bert and Ernie were two guys on a TV show who just… seemed to have this bond, this really close friendship. Even though the show claimed they were just two guys, living together, and it was a kid's show, which makes it even more fucked up. I dunno."

"I hate your stupid references," Cas smiled a little, his tone indicating his growing grasp of humor, then he sighed, "Sodomites. They really emphasized the wrong points about that in the Bible." Now, he frowned, shifting to his side, to look at Dean.

Dean was suddenly super aware of where their bodies touched

Cas searched for the right words. The contact of his body with Dean's, the events of the night, it was all too much, after the months of wanting the hunter, after dying and then losing everything he'd ever known but Dean. "You know, that brothel made me extremely nervous. I don't think I have interest in any other human."

_Woah. Any other human?_ Dean thought.

"Certainly not at that house of whores. But… I do not think I wish to die a 'virgin'," he placed a hesitant hand on Dean's arm as he spoke. Dean felt a tingling rush through his body from the point of contact.

_What the hell am I doing?_ thought Castiel, shocked at his own brazenness.

"What, exactly, are you proposing? Because it sure as hell better not be sweaty man-sex." Dean was suddenly extremely tense. He could feel the hairs on the back oh his neck stand up, and he was struck by the overwhelming sensation that he was too drunk for the conversation they were about to have.

"Oh." Cas looked crestfallen. His hand fell away.

Dean almost wanted to reach out and take it back. _What the hell? Where did that come from?_ He squashed it. _I am so not into dudes. Definitely not nerdy angel dudes._

"Dude, are you gay?" _Does he know about the dreams?_ raced through Dean's thoughts. The impossibly blue eyes searched Dean's face.

Cas didn't mean to eavesdrop on Dean's thoughts, but in their intoxicated state, Dean was practically broadcasting. Cas was shocked to receive the images of what Dean had been dreaming about in a flood through his brain. Cas putting his mouth- _oh._

"I know of your dreams, now. I didn't cause them, but, when you were with Anna, I could feel… I saw some of what occurred. I think that is why I wish to do this with you, why I have these feelings." Something inside Cas snapped, and at the memory of Dean's dreams, he gave in to his most recent impulse.

"Dude, I just don't swing-" Dean was abruptly cut off by Cas's lips pressed against his own. _Warm, oh god, so fucking warm and wet and sweet-_ the angel was an astoundingly good kisser, a better kisser than his Dream-Self. Dean could feel the stubble of Cas's perpetual five o'clock shadow and was shocked that it felt good, better than good against his face. Cas's tongue slid hesitantly between his lips and then more confidently caressed his own.

Cas was kissing Dean. He had _kissed_ Dean. The angel was amazed at himself, and even more amazed at the way the kiss felt. Dean's lips were full and warm, and perfect. The kiss shot through him, sending new sensations coursing through his body. He let his tongue slide hesitantly over Dean's bottom lip, and then more confidently into Dean's mouth, as he felt the hunter's lips part for him. He felt a tightening in his groin, aching, but pleasurable.

Unconsciously, Dean relaxed into the kiss, letting his free hand go around the other man's waist. Castiel responded by pulling Dean against his body, his fingers sliding along Dean's bare skin, and then Dean could feel the hardness pressing against his hip. He felt the same response quicken in his pants. _Oh shit. _He broke the kiss.

"Woah. Okay. Dude. Apply brakes, check mirrors." He was breathing heavily. His lips felt swollen, overheated. Other parts of his body felt… more so.

"What?" Cas looked more disheveled than usual, eyes bewildered. "Is that not how you dreamed it?" _What did I do wrong?_ he thought in panic.

Dean blushed as he remembered the other things he had dreamed about. "Cas, it's not that easy. I can't just change like that. I'm not some Gaylord McGaypants."

"If this is truly our last night on earth, what does it matter who you copulate with?" Cas's hands were still around Dean's waist, fingers still sending those wonderful tingles along his spine from each hot point of contact.

"Well, when you put it like that, just take me now, cowboy. Uh, that was sarcasm," he said as Cas moved forward again.

"Dean, I… I thought about this at length. The only being I would wish to share this with is you. Until I knew you, I never desired anything like this. You are… special… To me."

In the moonlight, even through the intoxication and arousal, Castiel looked so innocent, so pure as he asked Dean to rethink everything he had ever known about his sexuality, that Dean felt his barriers crumble. _It's not like you've never thought about it before,_ Dean reminded himself, _fuck, more than one. Dreamed about it._

"Aw, fuck, Cas." Dean said, and before he could change his mind again, he pulled the angel to him and kissed him hard. After a minute, he pulled away, both of them gasping. "Okay. Tonight. Last night on earth. One time." He honestly didn't give a fuck what it mean about his orientation anymore, it only mattered that it wasn't just him having those thoughts, that Cas wanted it just as badly as he did.

"Oh, yes…" Castiel moaned into his mouth. Cas was on him, kissing, sliding his hands over Dean's torso, sliding them down…

"Okay. Hold up there." God help him, was that a smile curling his lips? _Do I think Cas's new horndog 'tude is actually… adorable? _"Control yourself."

"I have controlled myself for a millennium." Cas looked annoyed and ecstatic at the same time. Dean let out a little laugh at the angel's impatience. _Did I just fucking giggle? I'm so gay. Okay, now focus. No, don't focus. Let go._

They were all over each other, kissing and touching and pulling away all the clothes keeping their bodies apart. Dean slid his hands along Cas's chest, feeling the fuzz under his fingers, foreign and kinda weird, but the skin underneath arousing him, at the same time. Cas's body was surprisingly well muscled, with a long, lean abdomen leading down to hip bones that Dean could only describe as fucking perfect.

Cas was lost in the way Dean's flesh felt sliding against his own, each tiny nerve sending bursts of heat to his brain, each touch entirely new and incredible to the angel.

"Your _skin_," Cas gasped, "against me!" He pushed Dean's increasingly naked body back onto the bed, "I didn't know it could _feel_ like this. The vision… this is so much more…" At a loss for descriptive words, he nuzzled Dean's neck, flicked his tongue experimentally over his hardened nipple. It felt like electricity shot down Dean's abdomen right into his suddenly raging hard-on.

"Yeah," Dean's already deep voice was huskier than usual, "Skin feels pretty good. Ooooh, yeah, skin is _good._" That voice and that breath, groaned into Cas's neck felt just as good but completely different against the angel's skin. Cas thought about Dean's dream. He felt a thrill go through him, thinking about what he had seen.

"I wish to do to you what you dreamed of. With my mouth." The wide blue eyes looked so, well, angelic, as he uttered possibly the filthiest sentence of his existence, and Dean hadn't thought he could have possibly gotten any harder, but he did at that.

"I'd… I'd like that," Dean rasped. He helped Cas slide off his boxers, and then the hot, wet mouth was circling his cock, delicate licks to the head and then swirling around and under. He had never felt anything like it, better than his dream. Castiel knew exactly what he wanted, what he needed, before he could ask or vocalize or even form a coherent thought. Dean watched the dark head moving up and down on his lap, the angel's cheeks hollowing with the gradually increasing suction. Cas brought him nearly to orgasm and it took the very last shred of Dean's willpower to stave off climax.

"Cas. Oh, _Cas._ Stop, oh, I need you to stop." Cas looked up, that crestfallen, scared emotion entering his eyes again.

"Am I doing it wrong? I read your thoughts, to know how-" Cas found he loved the feel of the warm skin in his mouth, the way Dean arched against him, and the sensations rolling off him into the angel's consciousness.

"Oh, that is sooo not it. You are doing great, baby. Just… Uh… Do you know how sex works? What an orgasm is?"

"It's the sexual release at the end of the copulation."

"Uh… yes. That's right. But I don't want to… uh, release just yet, " Dean looked away from the eyes, _those fucking eyes that cut though all my walls and see me, _"Cas. We need to talk for a minute. You know I've never really done anything like this before?"

"Neither have I." Cas had hit a point of no return. He wasn't sure he was capable of stopping.

"Yeah, but you don't seem to be really fuckin' nervous about it. I just… Oh _god." _Cas was slowly twisting his hand up and down Dean's shaft. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Please don't say that." The hand kept moving, and it was hard for Dean to focus on the words.

"What?"

"God." _Oh, right. Angel. I can see how that would be freaky._ Dean thought.

"I didn't mean to. I… _oh g- _uh… humans scream that during sex sometimes."

"That's very odd, as humans believe God has strict guidelines when it comes to sex." The hand was so perfectly warm and so much softer than Dean would have thought, the fingers long and delicate.

"I think that's partly why we do it. Well, that, and some people think sex is as close as we can get to God. That feels so fucking good." Dean moved his hips against Cas.

"Your whole race is silly." The hand continued its twisting.

"Okay. Yeah. Silly humans," Dean was gasping for breath, "This is just, sex, and it's gonna hurt, and I haven't-"

"Dean. I am an Angel of the Lord. Have some faith in me, stop talking, and _fuck_ me," Cas growled, sliding his other hand down to tease Dean's balls, and Dean almost lost it _again_.

"Okay, okay. Please, Cas, stop," Once again, he had to muster up that last shred of willpower, "It's your turn. The whole point of this was you not dying a virgin, right?" He pulled the angel down next to him, and let his hand trail down the pale chest. The feel of hair under his fingers was strange but not unpleasant. He explored Cas's skin, trying to calm himself, trying to figure his next move. He kissed a path down Cas's shoulder and paused to lightly bite at his nipples. Cas moaned and rose off the bed towards the sensation.

"Dean, this… this is-" Cas whimpered.

"Baby, you ain't seen nothin' yet," Dean smirked at his joke, even if Cas didn't get it and was too far gone to care. He stayed for a few minutes, sucking gently and laying a kiss on each hardened bud before continuing down the light trail of hair and then he slid his fingers under the waistband of the briefs- "Of course Jimmy was a briefs kinda guy..." he murmured. As he eased them off, he was definitely intimidated by the size of their contents. "Woah. You are packing, Cas."

"Packing?"

"Uh… You're well endowed?" _Fucking huge is more like it. Impressive._ Dean felt his own cock twitch at the sight of Cas's.

"Is this a good thing?" Cas wanted so badly to please Dean.

"Yeah. It would get you some popularity with the ladies. Or the fellows, I suppose." _And I am definitely going to be the dude,_ Dean thought.

"Is it pleasing to you?" Cas had his concerned eyes on again.

"It's fucking hot, if that's what you mean." Dean kissed Cas's hip ever so gently, and then closer to the intimidating topic of discussion. "I'm sorry if I'm not good at this, Cas. I can't read minds," he smiled, that half embarrassed, half delighted, adorable Dean Winchester smile, and then darted his tongue out to tentatively lick at the tip. Cas was amazed all over again by the variation of skin-on-skin sensations. This particular one was thrilling, the sensitive skin of his cock set ablaze by the soft, wet flesh of Dean's tongue laving the slit of his cock. Dean then took as much of it into his mouth as he could manage.

Cas moaned, and arched against the perfect lips.

_This isn't that hard,_ Dean thought, _It's actually… sexy. Really sexy. I could get used to this._ The responsiveness of the angel was the most erotic part, to him, the moaning and writhing under his increasingly confident ministrations. He didn't want to stop, but he also wanted the familiar, reassuring act of penetration. _Oh, it's more than that. You want to be inside Cas. You want to take away all of that holiness and replace it with dirty fucking sex,_ another unbidden thought.

"Please… I want you there," Cas was twitching, desperate for something that he didn't understand, "_Inside._"

Dean was pleased that he kept implements of sexual destruction on hand. Not that he ever thought he'd need lube for a man, just for the consideration factor with the ladies, but now, it came in handy. He oiled a finger, and slowly-

"Hey, do angels poop?" He couldn't hold back the question as it popped into his head.

"What?" Cas's head jerked up, eyebrow raised quizzically. "No. We don't require sustenance, thus have no need for digestion. How is that relevant?"

"Oh, you'll see." Dean took as much of the beautiful cock into his mouth as he could and slowly sunk his finger into Cas.

"_Oh fuck, oh hell, son of a bitch," _Cas let loose with every expletive he knew, voice completely wrecked. Dean added a second finger, as the angel seemed to be oblivious to any pain associated with stretching. All of the writhing was towards his finger. Dean caressed the sensitive pocket of nerves he had heard was so sensitive, and from the reaction, he thought, _Hey, guess it is that awesome_.

"Shit, fuck, oh yes, oh, please fuck me…" Cas went wild, bucking against Dean's hand and mouth, babbling obscenities.

"Yeah. Okay," Dean kissed the straining hip, and then withdrew his fingers, "You didn't really need the preparation, anyway," he pulled Cas up, "Turn around. I'll show you why humans scream out the Lord's name." He grinned and nipped at the back of Cas's neck. As he looked down at the angel's back, he wasn't really surprised to see tiny, feathered scars in the shape of wings on his back. Cas looked back at him, eyes trusting, and Dean thought _Oh hell, stop procrastinating,_ and slid inside, slowly and smoothly.

"_Oh, Dean, oh god…_" Cas moaned, he felt gloriously stretched, he felt complete, he just _felt_ everything, he felt everything Dean felt, he felt Dean's cock pressing against some special place that made it seem like his world was exploding into a million shooting stars.

Too fast, a few slick pumps of Dean's hand on Cas's cock and a few pushes into that glorious warmth and that miracle humans referred to as simultaneous orgasm happened, leaving both men shaking in its wake.

"Was that what you wanted it to be?" Dean whispered, once the ability to speak returned.

"Oh yes. That was… that was as close to God as I've ever been," Cas replied, and pulled Dean down beside him, "Thank you. Oh, thank you."

Dean wrapped his arms around the smaller man. He could feel slight shaking still, a vibration along Cas's back. "Oh, the pleasure was definitely all mine," he nuzzled his face into the side of the angel's neck, "Can I fall asleep? Is that cool?"

"Of course."

"I mean… Don't leave me, ok? While I'm sleeping?" That sentence was as close to vulnerable as Dean got.

"Dean, I will never leave you," Cas whispered, but the hunter was already asleep. Castiel watched him, savoring the first time he had seen Dean completely stripped of his constant pain, his macho posturing, his inner demons. The hunter twitched, like a dreaming dog, and pulled Cas closer.

Cas looked upwards for a moment, and murmured, "I am grateful to you for this gift."

He watched Dean sleep until he had to wake him, an hour before sunrise.


	7. An Angel's Smile On Your Lips

**Chapter Seven: An Angel's Smile On Your Lips**

They summoned Raphael in the morning, and sat watch the entire day. Finally, Dean convinced Cas they should go get some food. On the way back to the abandoned house, he glanced over at Cas.

"You know. Humans have another time-honored driving tradition."

"What is that?" Castiel had been tense and fairly crabby all day, understandably.

"It's called road head. It involves doing some of that mouth stuff from last night while driving."

Castiel cracked a smile. "Would that not make it difficult for you to see the road?"

"Haha. I don't like this sense of humor you're developing. You do it to me. I can focus. I'm an excellent driver," Dean smiled and winked at Cas. He unzipped his jeans, pulled his dick out. Castiel smiled a little for the first time that day. He leaned over, laid a light kiss on the tip of Dean's cock. It began to harden instantly. Cas darted out his tongue, and licked the slit at the head gently. He tasted saltiness, and enclosed the head in his mouth. He ran his tongue around the sensitive underside and then sucked slightly harder as he moved his lips down further. He enclosed Dean's entire cock slowly in his mouth, and then just as slowly moved it back up, replacing his mouth with his hand, rubbing the spit-slicked shaft in time with the bobbing motions of his head.

Dean moaned and tightened his grip on the wheel. It had been a long fucking time since he'd gotten anyone go down on him in the Impala. He loved it. _Well, yeah, because it combines my three of my favorite things, classic rock, driving my baby and oral sex. If only I could eat pie at the same time,_ he smiled to himself. _Shit._ The Impala swerved a little as Cas removed his hand, took Dean's entire cock into his throat again, and hummed a little to himself. Dean couldn't control himself any longer.

_Oh yeah,_ Dean thought as Cas swallowed his cum, making a satisfied noise in the back of his throat, _this is definitely a time honored tradition._

* * *

><p>After they didn't die, they didn't speak about the sex, either. Of course Dean had to go fuck it up. Cas left, and then he was alone again. Dean tossed restlessly on the motel bed.<p>

_Why did I say that?_ he thought, _I know how literally he takes things._ Things had been going really, really well, considering they were mid-apocalypse. Not that he was super comfortable with the having gay sex with an angel, but if he put the gay part out of his mind, having sex with Cas was pretty awesome. Hell, just being around Cas was pretty awesome, when he wasn't being a douche-angel, but of course he had to go and put his foot in his mouth and drive him away.

Dean flipped over. _It's probably for the best. Caring about anyone in the fucked up world just lets angels and demons use them against me. It's not like Cas is relationship material. Son of a bitch, am I even thinking about this in terms of a relationship? He's a guy, and an angel and a guy. Fuck._

Of course when Cas called him again, it was weeks later, when Dean was already sleep-deprived and crabby as fuck. Then his phone rang _again_ just as he was about to drift off into sweet, sweet sleep, it was Sam, Dean was still pissed and lashed out. After they hung up, that's when things got really fucking weird.

* * *

><p>It was 2014, and Dean hadn't thought his life could get worse than it already had been, but now he was seeing that, yeah, it really could.<p>

"What happened to you?" Dean was shocked at the den of inequity Cas had made for himself at Camp Chitaqua.

"Life," the angel smiled at him, and that was even different, something sly and hopeless in it that Past-Cas's smile lacked, and then Future-Cas had pulled him close and was kissing him, hard and desperate.

_Woah._ Dean thought, but the kiss was too hot, too hungry for him to want to pull away. _I mean, this is still Cas,_ he thought, _That's a hand on my ass. Yep. _

After a few more lighter kisses, Cas pulled away, looking smugly satisfied. Dean took a deep breath. "So, are we like, a thing in the future? Because I coulda sworn you were just prepping for an orgy, and apparently I have a deep connection with Risa."

"Ha. A thing, yes. Um, that's a way to describe it. We're- ah… not exclusive. You're far too, um, repressed and bitter and I'm, ha, haha, I'm just a hopeless romantic at heart."

"A hopeless romantic that throws orgies," Dean raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"There's more to it than- heh heh- the orgies, Dean," Castiel turned his head at the sound of a car pulling up. "You're home. Let's investigate this situation."

* * *

><p>Dean was amused that Future-Cas liked him, despite his growing suspicion that something was seriously wrong with the angel. He didn't like the idea of Cas turning into a crazy drugged out hippie. They were packing up to go after Satan, heading out in a few hours. Dean left the cabin in search of the latrine. <em>Nope, that's labeled supply tent… Did I just hear what I think I heard?<em> He stopped near the closed flap of the supply tent. He definitely heard it now, a strangled moan. It sounded disturbingly familiar. _Is that me?_ He realized suddenly it was.

"You are mine. Say it." Future-Dean's voice was low, deadly serious. There was the crack of a hand against flesh. "Say it. You don't belong to anyone else, not to God, not to yourself, not your whores, definitely not some wimpy version of me from five years ago. Mine. Say it. You're gonna say it because in the end, you know this is where you were always meant to end up, in the dark, with me. Who do you belong to?" He heard the crack of hand on flesh again.

"FUCK. I belong to you, Dean, I'm yours," he heard Cas cry out.

_Holy shit, I am a twisted motherfucker in the future,_ Dean thought, and eased quietly away. He almost tripped over Chuck, he was so rattled by what he had just heard.

* * *

><p>"That's just how I roll." Future-Cas smiled at the road ahead.<p>

"Right. Uh. So, tell me about us. Was there even an 'us'?" Dean asked him, watching the road nervously. Cas driving was tripping him the fuck out almost as much as the apparently-ex-angel's behavior.

"Ahhhh, nooo, not really. A lot of secret fucking, and I do mean a lot. Really. I was sore in places-" Cas was grinning beatifically at the memory.

"Okay,I get the idea. Lots of buttsex. But I'm, ah, repressed anyway?"

"Oh yes, very. Can't tell anyone, never told anyone, never fell in love, hell, never made love."

"You fuck chicks too, though."

"Now I do," Cas glanced over at him, "Now that I'm human."

"Never before?"

"No. Before, Dean, there was a millennia of chastity, and then there was you, and you changed _everything_." Cas sighed.

"I didn't love you, but you were in love with me?"

"The past tense is the relevant part. It's the end; we're all whores now, baby. Whatever I was in love with … Something died in you a long time ago, Dean. Something I think you needed."

Dean considered the sounds he had heard earlier. "I'm sorry, man."

"It's all good. I'm a pretty motherfucker, Dean, you shouldn't get this all to yourself," Castiel gestured at himself nonchalantly.

Dean cracked a smile at that, and then caught himself. "Still. I won't treat you this way, Cas, when I go back. I promise."

"Oh, Dean, you don't have a choice. We were always going to end up here. It's _destiny_." Cas smiled his crazy, drug fueled smile again, and they drove on towards the Devil.

* * *

><p>When Dean returned to his own time, he resolved to change everything. He called Sam, and they made plans to meet up the next day. He knew that if he was going to allow things with Cas to continue, it couldn't go the way it had in the future. He'd thought about stopping, not letting it get to the point of attachment, but in the end, while he could lie to everyone else, he couldn't lie to himself, and he wanted Cas, in a way he'd only wanted a few women in his life, the way he wanted Cassie, or Lisa, but almost more, because Cas wasn't human, wasn't weak, because Cas had absolute faith in him for absolutely no reason Dean could see.<p>

Cas got Dean's stuff from the motel and he stayed with Dean that night. They drove a few hours, but finally Dean had to admit he was too tired to keep going, so they got a room at a shitty motel so Dean could crash out for a while. When he woke, Cas was laying next to him, watching him sleep.

"Well, that's creepy," Dean commented.

"I don't sleep," Cas stated, "and I like how you look when you're at rest."

"Yeah, but you could watch TV or something, I dunno. It's weird to watch other people sleep."

"Humans ask angels to watch over them in their sleep all the time. Your mother, for one."

"How do you- never mind. Are you gonna stick around?" Dean wiped the crust from his eyes.

"Not for much longer. I have to meet with someone about the Colt, in a few hours."

Dean smiled, pulled the angel closer to him, "Then we have enough time, before I go meet Sammy."

"Time?"

Dean kissed Cas, letting his lips play across Cas's mouth and across the stubbled jaw line. Cas reciprocated in kind, and Dean tugged at the trench coat, pulling it away from the soft skin of his neck, laving a spot with his tongue, eliciting a soft moan from Cas.

"Undress for me," he murmured, pulling his mouth away.

Cas obeyed, standing and removing his coat matter-of-factly. He tugged off his tie awkwardly, trying to move too quickly and tangling it. Dean sat up, and unknotted the offending neckware.

"Slowly," Dean commanded, sitting back. It was new to him to take time to appreciate another man's body, but this was Cas, after all, and Dean knew that the angel's body turned him on regardless. Dean was used to letting women take the lead sexually, but everything with Cas was different.

Cas unbuttoned the white shirt, letting it fall open, revealing his lean chest, marked by dark wisps of hair. Dean smiled encouragingly, and Cas unbuckled the belt, and let the pants fall to the floor. This instantly created an issue of being tangled in his shoes, and Dean laughed. Cas looked offended.

"I'm sorry. Shoes are usually the first things off. I should've mentioned it."

"I'm unused to disrobing," Cas said disgruntledly.

"It's okay. You're cute." Dean stood now, putting his hands at the line of Cas's briefs. He ran his fingers along the beautiful hips, and Cas shuddered into his touch. He hooked his fingers in the waistband, and pulled them down. Cas stepped out of them, and Dean pulled him down on top of him.

They fucked slowly, deeply, taking the time to explore and learn about as many bits of the other's body as they could. Dean discovered that he loved how incredibly open and responsive Cas was to his touch, how intensely he reacted to caresses and how he writhed back against Dean when he finally entered him from behind. Dean leaned over Cas's back, taking his cock into his hand and feeling the muscle twitch under the soft skin. Cas came first, but Dean, still a little preoccupied with the dystopian future he'd just experienced, kept going, slowly, gently, for what seemed like forever, until Cas began to go wild again, bucking against him, and finally taking Dean's hand from his hip and pulling it to wrap around his hardening dick. As Cas mewled out his name, Dean came, the orgasm stretching on and on until finally, just as he was about to collapse, he felt Cas come hot against his touch again. Dean felt overcome by some foreign emotion, something safe and warm, completely peaceful. Cas turned after he pulled away, and kissed Dean on the forehead lightly, and then deeper on the lips.

"I like this," Cas told him solemnly, "Fornicating with you."

"Okay, first, never call it that. Fucking? Having sex? Screwing? There's lots of words that don't sound weird. Second, I like it too," Dean took a deep breath, "I like you, man, obviously. We've got each other's backs, you gave everything for me, died for me and Sammy… I can't ever thank you enough for that. And Zack showed me a vision of the future, of what it might be, and it was fuckin' scary, I can't lie to you-"

"Zachariah is not above deception, Dean. It is likely that what he showed you was meant only to convince you to say yes."

"I dunno about that. It seemed pretty real. Either way, I don't want the things that happened there to ever happen in our lives. But I'm not… We can't-" Dean's words stumbled, unable to articulate how messed up this all was.

"You aren't gay, but you care deeply for me, even though you know it can't be more than what it is." Cas's face was serene, and he reached out a hand to cup Dean's cheek.

"Yeah. Exactly," Dean half smiled in relief, "I don't wanna tell Sammy, not because I'm ashamed, but because it's weird-"

"You used that word often to describe me." Cas remarked.

"I didn't mean you're weird- well, you're weird as shit, but this, us, the sex, it's awesome, but it's weird too. I know Sammy'd accept it and all, but some people might not understand. Also, Sam would give me shit about it, forever, and I don't need to give him that ammo, for sure. And caring about each other… It's just something else that can get used against us, if anyone else knew. The demons and angels, for example, could fuck us right over if they figured out what's between us."

"I understand. I do not expect a marriage, or even fidelity, Dean. It is only what exists in the moment, and we are lucky if we survive any given day. Do not forget that I'm still an angel. If I survive this, I will return to Heaven. This is… This is just a perk of disobeying, as you said, based on mutual affection and attraction."

Dean now felt totally relieved, "I'm glad you get it. You get it better than I do, actually."

Cas smiled. _God, he's so fuckin' pretty when he smiles,_ Dean thought.

"You _like_ me," Cas said, in a slightly teasing tone.

"Pfft, whatever, bitch, you like me, too," Dean hugged Cas to him, and ruffled the angel's hair, "Hey. I have a question about this Bible stuff. You said God doesn't care, but…Isn't this… Us, fucking… Doesn't God frown on gay relations? Isn't there some pretty specific stuff in the Bible?"

"God does not care. He hasn't cared about how humans fornicate for a very long time, or about anything else, apparently," Cas smiled a little bitterly, and Dean wanted to kiss away the pain, so he did, "And, I already told you, the Bible is not what I would consider historical document. Stories to guide humans to choose to believe in God, to steer them towards goodness and honesty, but it was never intended to be used to justify what it has."

"Huh. Good to know." Dean looked at the clock, "Okay, I gotta get cleaned up and hit the road," he stood regretfully, " Check in with us if you hear anything. Or, y'know, pop into my dreams, whenever."

After Cas left, Dean remembered Future-Cas's bleak words- "Never fell in love, hell, never made love." _Well,_ he thought, _I guess that's not true, no, that was kinda makin' love.. Fuck destiny. I'm gonna rewrite the whole fuckin' book._

* * *

><p>Dean got back on track. Castiel physically vanished again for a few weeks, but he visited Dean's dreams almost every night. The dream sex was awesome- any location, complete freedom to do as they wished.<p>

Then, one night, Cas did something shocked the shit out of him.

"What the fuck are those?" Dean regarded the item dangling from Cas's finger.

"Don't be upset with me." The angel looked surprised at Dean's resistance. "I try not to read your mind, Dean, I understand it's rude, but when we, ah, are 'fucking', you… I can't help it. You broadcast. I picked this up the last time. You… you want it, I know you do." Cas looked a little confused, but there was also a glint of amusement in the blue eyes.

Dean stared at the pink, satin panties Cas was still holding out towards him. "Uhhhh…"

"Dean. Put them on. Now." Cas's eyes twinkled with something… _Is that deviousness? Is Cas seriously insisting I wear women's underwear?_

They stood in the dream-room, staring each other down. Finally, Dean realized that in a game of chicken, the angel was probably better equipped to win.

"Okay. This one time."

"I don't know why you are resisting, Dean. I can tell how much the thought turns you on."

Dean felt himself actually blush. He took off his clothing, feeling Cas admiring his body. Then, he slowly wiggled into the soft, extremely pink panties.

"Okay. But I draw the line at a sundress."

The panties felt… _Okay. These feel pretty nice. Very nice,_ Dean thought, glad that at least this was all inside his head, so there was no chance of discovery.

Cas pushed him back roughly onto the bed, grinding his mouth into Dean's, cupping his ass and pulling the human against him. Dean started to get hard, the feeling of Cas's cock rubbing against his though the suit pants and satin new and stimulating. They kissed passionately, and then the angel pulled back. He was instantly naked.

"Now, I want you to touch yourself, through the panties," he instructed.

Dean started hesitantly at his chest, brushing his nipples gently. Cas's tongue poked out of the side of his mouth, like a student in intense studying mode. The naked hunger in his eyes not only turned Dean on, but increased his confidence in the venture. He slid his hand down his tanned abdomen, and stroked his hard-on through the fabric. He couldn't keep back a moan. Cas broke instantly at the noise, and was on him, thrusting his hips against Dean. Separated by only the sheer barrier, Dean moaned again, louder as their cocks rubbed against each others. He rolled his hips back against Cas, feeling the angel's hands running up and down his body, stroking and scratching at every spot that turned his crank. He grabbed Cas's ass, pulling his groin against Dean's in an increasing tempo. At last, they came, panting, Dean's orgasm staining the inside of the panties, Cas's covering his stomach.

"Oh, fuck, dude," Dean panted. "There might be something to this whole mind reading thing. That… I will kill you if you tell anyone this, understand?"

Cas nodded, smiling.

"That was freaking awesome."

* * *

><p>The Winchesters were investigating some pranks gone horribly awry, and while Sam was out, Dean called Cas. He told himself it was for information, but he hadn't heard from the angel in a few days, and he sorta missed the spaz. Also, now that he was getting used to regular sex again, he was a little worked up, and he had an idea he wanted to try out on Cas, since the angel was a completely blank canvas for sexuality, and was also hilariously baffled by cell phones.<p>

"Hello? Hello? Is this working? Did I press the correct button?" Cas answered in his usual baffled manner.

"Hey, you," Dean said. "Where are you? Are you busy?"

"San Francisco. I'm not occupied at the moment. Why did you call?"

"We're working a case. I had some downtime. Are you alone?" Dean stretched out on the bed and started to lightly stroke his stomach. There was something about Cas's voice that made him rock hard instantly these days.

"Who would I be with?"

"I mean, are you in public, can people see you?"

"No. I am on top of the large, red bridge. Why? Is something happening?"

"No, nothing's going down. What are you wearing?" Dean chuckled to himself, knowing exactly what Castiel was wearing.

"Clothing, the same clothing I always wear. Why? Why are you asking me these questions?"

"Cas, I want to introduce you to another time honored human tradition. Phone sex." There was silence from the other end. "I got you minutes, so don't try and use that as an excuse."

"What is phone sex?" Castiel sounded suspicious.

"When humans can't be near each other, sometimes they'll talk dirty to each other on the phone, and jerk off." Dean was incredibly amused by the concept of an angel of the lord having phone sex.

"Jerk off?"

Dean decided to put an end to the questions. "Just do what I tell you. I want you to unzip your pants, and start touching your cock, the way I do."

Silence.

"Are you touching yourself?" Dean unzipped his own jeans, and started to stroke himself.

"Yes. I don't understand though, I could come to-"

"Dude, you are missing the point. Plus, I don't know how much time I have and I don't want to be interrupted. I'm touching myself, I'm getting hard. I'm thinking about how good your mouth feels on my dick." He let out an illustrative moan. "Are you getting hard?"

"Yes. I'm experiencing a physical reaction to your voice. It's very odd."

"It happens to me, too. I love your voice. Especially when I make you moan and cuss. I'm thinking about slowly kissing my way down your chest, and stopping to bite your nipples, cuz I know you go nuts when I do that."

Cas let out a moan at that. "I like it when you do that. I like it when I put my mouth on you, too."

"I love it when you do that. Put my whole dick in your mouth, and just suck. You're so fucking good at it."

"I enjoy it very much, the way you writhe under me when I suck on you, and grab at my hair. I enjoy the noises you make, although, I enjoy it more when you… ah… fuck my ass."

Dean moaned. The awkward swear words in Cas's gravelly voice almost made him come. He slowed his pace. "Fuck, the thought of burying my dick in you makes me almost come from just thinking about it. You're so tight and hot, and the way _you_ writhe is pretty fucking hot too," he stroked faster again, without meaning to, at the thought of Cas going crazy under his touch. He pictured the angel on top of the Golden Gate Bridge, leaning against the arch and stroking his cock, coming undone at the sound of Dean's voice.

"Dean…" Cas's voice was strained now, "I think I am going to climax."

"Oh yeah, me too. Fuck, the thought of you clenching around me- shit!" The mental image of Cas coming above San Francisco was too much. Dean came, and from the groan he heard on the other end, he was pretty sure Cas had too. There was panting on both sides for a moment.

"You there?" Dean asked after a minute.

"Yes. That was… interesting. I enjoy the physical actions more, though."

"Me, too. Oh, _fuck._" Dean looked down at his hands, where there was suddenly a substantial amount of hair. "Fucking bizarre supernatural jinxes."

"Is something wrong?" Cas sounded a little too interested. Dean suddenly wondered what filled the angel's time away. How many leads could he be following up? Was he bored?

"No. Uh. Just some stuff related to the case. I gotta go, man, we'll call you if we need you. "

"All right. I will speak with you another time then."

"Good bye, angelcakes."

"Good bye, Dean."

* * *

><p>Dean told Sam he was going out to a bar to pick up some chicks, after they left Nebraska, but he drove to a motel across town, and called Cas. He came right away, but maintained his distance from Dean. After the events in Nebraska, Dean wanted to talk to Cas anyway, so he was fine with the angel not jumping his bones instantly, but he didn't like the avoidance.<p>

He crossed the room, stopping just short of getting into Cas's personal space. Cas wrinkled his nose.

"Why do you smell of cooked pig?"

Dean laughed, "Ha. Yeah. About that. Long story. Anyway. I, uh, wanted to talk to you about something, Cas."

"Yes?"

"I understand why you thought you had to kill Jesse. I do. I get that you've been doing the righteous avenger thing for like, a million years, but I gotta ask you to just stop and think about these things before you do them. Hear me out. Human life is precious to us, Cas. That's our whole gig, saving people, believing in people, and I need you to be on board with that. I need you to trust me. We can't always shoot first and regret it later."

Cas was silent, mulling it over. Dean reached over, and ruffled his hair, partly because he couldn't resist the unruly black strands, and partly to show Cas that he wasn't pissed.

"I understand. I was only trying to do as I believed was best. But I understand more every day that humans are capable of so much more than I knew." Cas looked up at him, hair now comically rumpled. "You have changed so many things for me, Dean."

Dean didn't know how to respond to the praise, so instead he tugged off Cas's coats and convinced him to remove his footwear and lay on the bed. An hour later, Cas was snuggled up to his side as they watched an episode of _Dr. Sexy, MD_. Dean wasn't unaware that this was the first time they'd just been intimate without immediately getting to the hardcore anal, but he wasn't uncomfortable enough with it to bring it up and ruin the moment. Eventually, he turned off the TV and kissed Cas, and one thing leading to another.

Finally, Dean pulled out the lube he now always had close to hand, which he worried might make him completely gay. He still loved chicks, though, which he felt made him mostly not gay. Just gay for his angel. _Eesh. But still not gay enough to call him my angel,_ he thought.

"Get on your stomach," he whispered, and as Cas obliged, Dean slid two fingers into him, admiring the scene before him, Cas spread for him, thrusting back into his fingers with his hips, and pulling them deeper with the muscles of his passageway. Cas groaned and looked back at Dean. Dean loved it when he did that, blue eyes darkened with passion, disheveled and wanton. Dean twisted his fingers to find the cluster of nerves he had discovered turned Cas into a quivering, gasping wreck. _There is nothing sweeter,_ Dean thought, _than buttfucking an angel of the lord._

"_Fuck,"_ came from the angel's lips.

"Enough foreplay," Dean pushed his cock into Cas smoothly, took a moment to just enjoy the welcoming clench, and then he slowly slid in and out, finding a slow tempo that held them both at the edge of losing control. "This time, I'm gonna make you last. You can't come til I say you can come." The more often they fucked, the more Dean noticed how easy it was to flirt with that line between fake-sexy control, and torture-domination control. It scared him a little, remembering the future, but he told himself that this was safe, this was different.

He kept sliding almost all the way out and slowly easing his way back in until Cas was whimpering for release. He lasted much, much longer than he would have thought possible, until they were both sweating and straining, until it was almost painful not to orgasm, and Cas was begging him in between gasps for permission.

He leaned down and bit Cas's shoulder gently, then whispered in his ear, "Now. Come for me."

Cas instantly obliged, and Dean followed suit.

Afterwards, they lay together, softly touching each other, and being sweet. Dean was finding out that the intimacy was almost as good as the sex. It had been so long since he'd stuck around after, with anyone, and with the women he'd been with, he'd rarely let himself stay, and the few times he had, he'd gotten burned.

In the morning, he returned to Sam, who gave him a knowing look.

"I'm glad that you're back to your old ways," Sam smiled, "I'm assuming whoever you picked up was happy to cook you breakfast as a thank you."

"Not so much with the cooking, Sammy, but very much with happy," Dean winked, "God, I love nurses. She probably woulda cooked, if I'd stuck around. At least I don't have to use your razor again."

"Aww, gross, dude, I told you not to."

"Which only made me want to more," Dean grinned, and they hit the road again for a greasy diner breakfast. For a while, at least, they could almost pretend it was the old days.

* * *

><p>"And then, Sam had to get the clap treated. It was pretty awesome," Dean delightedly told him the end of the story. Cas visited Dean's hotel room the night after the whole Grumpy Old Men fiasco while Sam was out investigating some bear attack or something that he thought sounded promising.<p>

"Hmm. I don't understand why gonorrhea is funny. It sounds horrible."

"It is, trust me," Dean laughed again at the memory.

Their fingers were intertwined, and Cas rubbed gently at Dean's ring.

"What does this mean?" he asked, twisting it around Dean's finger.

"Heh. Well, mostly I use it to open bottles. It's beat to shit though," Dean took it off, turning it around in his hand, "On the inside, it says, 'Love is patient, love is kind.' I think it was Mom's or Grandpa's. I don't really remember. I found it around the house about when I started drinking, and it just kinda… stuck with me."

Cas took it from his hand. "Agape," he said.

"What? Ah-gah-peh?"

"It's from the Bible," Cas turned the ring around, mimicking Dean, as he spoke, "'Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.'"

"Huh."Dean was struck by a sudden impulse. "Do you want it?"

"Why?"

"Well, I mean, you have my amulet, but I want that back, when you're done with it. You can have the ring, though. To remember me by," he smiled. "I mean, seriously, you might as well just take all my man jewelry."

Cas raised an eyebrow. "Do you have more 'man jewelry'?"

"Um. Not that I'm admitting to," Dean smiled, and pulled the angel closer, "I don't want you to get your grubby little hands on my jewels any more than you already have."

The double entendre escaped Cas, but the look on his face as he pocketed the ring made the gift completely worth it to Dean.

* * *

><p>"Castiel, wait." Gabriel stood in the middle of the soaking warehouse. "Dean won't choose you, you know."<p>

"I am aware. You should attend to your own business… And if you come after the Winchesters again, I will kill you, family or not." Castiel exited, leaving Gabriel alone with his thoughts.

He avoided Dean for a little while after that, though. The new emotions rolling around in his head and gut were disconcerting to say the least. He was aware that Dean wasn't entirely comfortable with their new activities, but he obviously enjoyed them at the same time. Castiel didn't have the same aversion to homosexuality that he could sense underneath Dean's casually sexual attitude, but he was concerned that the pain he felt when they parted ways and his desire to be around the hunter would complicate the much more serious business of Apocalypse-halting. Emotions had always seemed to be a weakness to Cas, and the more he felt, the more he understood that the pain was worth the joy. He had told Dean he was willing to accept what was between them as it was, and he meant it, but he hadn't counted on the way his feelings were continuing to escalate. _But it can't be anything more than it is,_ he reminded himself,_ one day I will go home, and Dean will find love with a human. That is how it must be._

His cell phone went off in his pocket. Dean. Castiel gingerly pressed the green button.

"Hello?" he asked. The phone continued to ring. He pressed the green button more aggressively. "Hello!"

"Hey. Cas. What's up? Are you okay?"

"I am fine. I am simply upset with the buttons on this infernal device. Why do they not make them the size of your fingers?"

"We all ask AT&T that, baby. I need your help. We got a lead on the Colt. We think a demon named Crowley has it, and we think he's a crossroads demon. Can you see what you can find out?"

"Yes. I will call when I have more information."

"Thanks. Later." Dean was gone.

* * *

><p>Dean hung up with Cas, and continued driving down the road. Sam dozed in the passenger seat, twitching whenever a particularly loud guitar solo played. Dean tried to focus on the rock and the road, but his mind drifted back to the conversation he'd had with Chuck right before they left the convention.<p>

"So… You and Cas, huh." Chuck remarked, coming over to Dean, who stood by the Impala, wishing he had brain bleach to dismiss the mental image of the LARP-ers having Wincestious anal sex.

"What?" Dean tried to act casual, and then realized the futility of trying to play dumb with a prophet. "Yeah. What about it?"

"Well, I mean, you know. I told you so."

"Fuck you, Chuck."

"Right. Yeah. I guess that was douchey of me. But seriously, you can't lie to me. I know exactly how half-heartedly you've been hitting on chicks, how you feel like it's just a show, to remind you that you're straight, so Sam doesn't catch on. That's not sustainable, Dean, your angel-"

"He's not my angel."

"Cas, then, and just so you know, you're not gay. None of us are really gay or straight, in the end, it's never about the packaging. Think about it, haven't you thought about dudes before? But you know you like women. And then there's this freakin' angel who raises you from hell, thinks the sun shines out of your ass, who has this weird, unshakable faith in your bitter, repressed self. He's worth it, he's something special. That's all I'm saying," Chuck wiped his palms nervously on his pants, "He's already halfway to falling for you, and I mean that in the emotional and literal sense," Chuck looked as if he was gathering all his courage, and then he said in the most authoritative voice Dean had heard the prophet use, "Don't fuck it up."

Dean watched Chuck walk away, and couldn't help but crack a smile.

Dean came back to the driving, smiling again with amusement at Chuck trying to man up. _What a weird fuckin' day, _he thought,_ All in all, I got a new perspective on my life, and a lead on the Colt, that's not too shabby. This mighta been a good day, after all._ He tapped his fingers against the wheel in time with the music, _Cas… Chuck doesn't know shit. Well, he knows my secret thoughts, which is fucking creepy, but okay, he is right about that... And that Cas likes me, and he'd worth it, sure, but he told me, he's gotta go back someday. No time for love, and he's already as fallen as he'd gonna get._


	8. If I Leave Here Tomorrow

**Chapter Eight: If I Leave Here Tomorrow**

_I can't believe she shot me down._ Dean was far drunker than he meant to be. He was outside with his Impala, continuing to get drunker. He had used the "last night on earth" speech dozens of times, with dozens of girls and only a select few had resisted his trademarked Winchester charm, and now Jo was one of them. _I wasn't really trying, anyway. Ellen would kick my ass if we did._ He didn't really want to admit the truth of the matter to himself- Sam caught him checking out Cas, and Dean had had to scramble to cover his ass. Not that he hadn't wanted Jo, sometimes, almost loved her, even. He wouldn't have exactly declined if she'd said yes, but that little sister vibe would have haunted him, he knew. He felt guilty as fuck that he'd done it in front of Cas, though, and deeply disturbed that he felt guilty as fuck, which swung back around to emotionally confused about it all, and topped off with a little upset that his chick-mojo was on the fritz.

"Dean?" said a roughened voice behind him.

"Yeah?" he turned to face the source of his most recent stress, Castiel, who was apparently also drunk, and standing- once again- extremely close to Dean.

* * *

><p>"I think this might really be our last night on Earth." Castiel was full of something- doubt? Fear, or maybe jealousy? He wasn't sure what the specific emotion was that made him feel like his consciousness was tearing apart, but that's what it felt like. He felt hopeless, dizzy, and irritable.<p>

"Yeah. That's pretty likely," Dean took another swig of beer, "Getting cold feet, angelcakes?"

"My feet are the same temperature as the rest of my body. What is a Huggy Bear?" he asked abruptly.

"Haha, there was an old tv show about two cops named Starsky and Hutch, and they got all their info from a gravelly voiced, jive talking pimp they called Huggy Bear."

"Ah, another reference. You are entirely too fixated on this television set."

"Hey, the boob tube is an awesome way to kill time, and you have to admit, you like my movie dreams."

"I do." Cas swayed a little on his feet, and looked at Dean in surprise, "Dean. I believe I am… buzzed."

Dean laughed. Then, in a saltier tone, Cas said, "Jo rejected your sexual advances." _This might be jealousy,_ he thought.

"Yeah she did. Fuck self respect. She's too good for me anyway," Dean pulled the tipsy Cas towards him, saying, "I'm sorry, though. I… Jo is mostly like a kid sister to me. Sammy saw me lookin' at you guys, and assumed I was checkin' her out. I mean, I guess I was, some, checkin' you both- er, I didn't mean... 'M sorry if I hurt your feelings? I mean, we're not… You said-" Dean looked guilty. Cas could feel the confusion rolling off of Dean now, the guilt and desire mixed...

_Oh._ Cas suddenly understood, feeling the intoxication lift a little as he examined Dean's thoughts. _Agape. Love does not envy, love is truth. I was so wrong, it isn't passion, he wasn't telling the truth before, he does love, he loves them all, the women, Sam, Bobby, his parents,, he loves every one of us so much and that's why he fights. He doesn't understand it; he doesn't know how great his capacity to love really is. I didn't understand. Humans have enough love for everything, like my Father. They can give it away endlessly, and never deplete themselves._

Cas allowed Dean to put his arms around him, relaxed his body against Dean's. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I felt… It doesn't matter. I'm sorry, too. You care for both of us. All of us." Cas pressed his lips to Dean's, unable to communicate his new understanding to the human with words. When the kiss broke, he felt Dean's relief.

"So… it's our last night on earth. Again…" Dean put on his sweetest expression.

"I suppose," Castiel sighed, and looked up at Dean, a hint of a lascivious smile curling his lips, "Mmmm…" he moaned as Dean took the opportunity to kiss the side of his neck, his tongue finding the pulse point, "_Yes…_"

"I'm so glad you're easy," Dean laughed, "Impala."

They fell into the backseat, Dean pushing Cas's trench coat off and running his hands along Cas's back, and then around, digging into his hips for a moment, and then sliding down into the slacks. Cas's fingers tightened around his shoulders as Dean found the engorged contents. Dean stroked Cas as they exchanged heated kisses, and Cas groaned into Dean's mouth, loving the hot, rough palm and friction around his cock. He could feel a climax building, and he wasn't ready, so he pushed Dean back, feeling a momentary stab of regret as Dean's hand left his pants. Dean pushed his own pants down now, and the hand was quickly replaced with pressure from their dicks rubbing together, Cas fitting one leg in between Dean's, and rocking forward, feeling the velvety smooth hardness twitching against his own. He couldn't tell which one of them was moaning, anymore, couldn't tell whose emotions were overwhelming them, and it was all he could do not to come then. Once again stopping himself, he slid down the seat, taking Dean's erection into his mouth briefly, swallowing as much of it as he could, loving the salty taste and the rush of heady arousal before Dean pulled his head back up.

"I'm gonna- it's too-" Dean choked out, and Cas backed off a little, running his hands along the golden skin, kissing the handprint on Dean's shoulder. Dean gasped, rolling his cock against Cas's stomach- "_Need_ you, baby-"

* * *

><p>Dean looked at the second angel to grace the backseat of the Impala, skin flushed, eyes cloudy with arousal, and pushed him back. He held two fingers up to Cas's mouth.<p>

"Lick," he commanded, and Cas opened his mouth, swirling his tongue along the tips and then along the length of them, his lips red and wet as he hungrily took Dean's fingers. Dean could feel the vibrations of Cas's moans along his palm, and when the fingers were wet, he teased Cas's legs apart and slid them up inside the hot canal.

Cas was unashamed, as always, full of sexual abandon, displaying openly his need for Dean. He looked into Dean's eyes, the blue ones almost black with desire, serious and half wrecked.

"Fuck me," Cas said in a low, commanding tone, so Dean moved as far up as the roof of the car would allow, and pulled Cas's head forward.

Cas fucking _hoovered_ his cock, his saliva coating the straining shaft.

"Slower, or I'll fucking lose it," Dean rasped, and Cas lightened his frantic sucking to licks, and when Dean couldn't stand it another fucking second, pushed him back and thrust inside, taking him hard and fast, fucking him into the backseat. Cas's legs locked around his back, and he could feel nails digging into his shoulders, every single part of Cas's body pulling him in closer, deeper. Cas was muttering, using words Dean didn't understand, maybe Enochian, frantically thrusting back against him. He slid his hand down to stroke Cas's slick cock, and cried out as Cas clenched around him in appreciation.

"Fuck, Cas, fuck, I'm gonna-"

"Yes-"

They both lost control at the same instant, Dean pumping every single drop of cum his body possessed into Cas, Cas coating their stomachs with his seed. Dean couldn't bring himself to leave the warmth of Cas's body, didn't want to stop, just lay his head on Cas's shoulder, and tried not to cry at the sheer intensity of it. One or two drops might have leaked out.

He couldn't bring himself to move, so instead the just lay, for what felt like hours, his face buried in the crook of Cas's neck, murmuring endearments, feeling whispered replies against his ear.

Now flaccid, he eased back out of the angel's ass. Castiel twisted under him, and Dean sat on the seat and pulled Cas to him, still flushed. Cas looked at the mess hardening on their bodies, and touched a finger to Dean's navel. They were instantly clean.

"God, I love fucking you," Dean grinned.

Cas smiled and leaned into him. "It is still very odd to hear you say His name so causally. "

"I'm sorry. It's just another expression, you know. And, y'know, you take his name in vain sometimes now, too."

"_Once,_ by accident, because you _made_ me," Cas looked at him, his annoyance half mocking, half serious concern. "He used to be very sensitive about it. There are stories, passed around the barracks, of His wrath falling upon those who spoke of him irreverently."

"Huh. It sounds to me like God has some serious issues. Maybe he's taking this walkabout to seek therapy." Dean tapped a finger to his temple.

Castiel smiled again at that. Dean kissed the top of his head. "Maybe he will be rehabilitated someday. Hopefully, soon enough to help us."

"Unless the Colt works. Then we don't need him." Dean pointed out. Cas was silent, resting his head on Dean's shoulder. Dean pulled the trench coat over their bodies, and held Cas against the curve of his body, their bodies squished tightly together in the confined space.

They stayed that way for a long time, snuggling and talking, enjoying the company of the other. Eventually, Dean fell asleep.

* * *

><p>After Dean fell asleep, Castiel sat, holding the hunter, watching the slow rhythm of his chest. Quietly, he whispered, "Dean, I think I am falling into love with you." Of course there was no response, but the act of admitting his feeling aloud made Cas feel slightly better.<p>

After Ellen and Jo died, Castiel didn't want to visit Dean. He avoided him for weeks. He could sense the unrest that plagued Dean's thoughts, and he could do nothing to help it. He hated that he was helpless, bound in the holy oil, unable to save the girl. Even if he had been jealous of Dean's affection for her, he now understood that anyone Dean loved was worthy of his love, too, and anything that would make Dean happy, Cas would do. He had genuinely enjoyed meeting Ellen and Jo, and he mourned their loss as deeply as Dean and Sam did.

There was also Cas's newfound confusion about his own sexuality. When the demon girl had fallen into his arms, for a second or two, the warm, curving body pressed against his had felt oddly familiar, and he felt himself growing hard. It felt so wrong and twisted to desire her, but he couldn't help almost leaning in to kiss her, couldn't help being aroused by the perverseness of it. Of course he had instantly squashed the urge and flung her into the flames, but the feel of her body against his lingered oddly at the edges of his thoughts for days. He didn't understand why, and it disturbed him deeply. He couldn't separately the concepts of physical passion and emotional love in his brain, even though he knew they had to come from different places inside of himself.

Cas filled his time seeking an audience with Asasiel. It wasn't easy to convince his brother to see him, but Asasiel was another angel of Thursday, and he had always been sympathetic to any who lived their lives by being true to themselves and attempting to love and help others. From Asasiel, he learned that Metatron was calling himself Joshua now, and had holed himself up in the Garden, remaining silent. Joshua was the only one who was talking to God- which relived Cas, because at least if God was talking to Metatron, he was still alive.

Finally, Dean had called Cas to tell him Anna was back, and she had visited him in his dream. He went to Dean.

"So. You turned Anna in." Dean was obviously upset.

"No. Well, yes. But I didn't- I was… They promised me Paradise. They promised me peace for you and Sam, showed me the Hell that would come if I didn't obey. I thought I was doing what was right."

"It's cool, man- I mean, it's not, that sucked, but I get it. You were brainwashed by Heaven's Correctional Program. You were pretty douchey to us too, then. You coulda told us, though." Perhaps not angry at Cas, though.

"I am sorry, Dean. You know-"

"Yeah man, I know. It was hard for you. But in the end, you saved us, and I know you would have saved Anna if you could have." Dean reached out, touching the back of Cas's hand reassuringly.

Cas looked away, ashamed.

"But she's back. She wants us to meet-"

"No. Absolutely not." Cas's body went tight, and he allowed his eyes to flash dangerously at Dean, "You're right, Dean, if I could have saved her, I would have. You have no idea how well guarded Corrections is."

"You seriously call it Corrections?" Dean half smiled, but his eyes were serious.

"Yes. Dean. You have to believe me when I tell you this, I need you to trust me. There is no way that she escaped." Cas's brow was furrowed.

"Cas, this is Anna we're talking about. She got out of Heaven before-"

"No, she tore out her Grace, before. If she's out, Grace intact, she's working for them."

"I don't buy it." Dean crossed his arms, taking a step back from Cas.

"At least let me go to her. Stay hidden. Let me see what she has to say." Dean was silent. "Please."

Dean looked at him for a few beats, thinking.

"Okay. But if she checks out, you bring her straight here, okay?"

Cas nodded his acquiescence and vanished.

* * *

><p>"And if you could save Mom? What would you say?" Sam asked Dean.<p>

Dean didn't have an answer. Castiel lay unconscious on the motel bed. Dean watched him, still worried. Seeing Cas pale, bleeding and unconscious scared the shit out of him. Until that moment, he hadn't realized how very much he cared for the angel. When he'd asked Cas to send them back, he hadn't understood how much it would take out of him- he figured Cas wouldn't have done it if he'd known it would almost kill him.

_Weaken him, my ass, _Dean thought worriedly. He kept drinking, trying to push away the thoughts of how Cas was quickly becoming just one more person Dean had let down. The fake shrink at the asylum had been pretty dead on- _well, duh, she was a fucking figment of my imagination, of course she knew how hopeless I am, _he thought morosely, _this whole fucking week. Fuck the asylum, fuck that little punk ass manwich. Fuck Sam and fuck the apple pie life._ After the whole body switching thing, it was becoming a daily struggle for Dean to keep thoughts of a normal life out of his head. He kept thinking of Lisa and Ben, fantasizing that he could just ice the Devil and be done will all the fucking demons and angels and just stop fighting. _Just have that slice of apple pie living, __he thought,_ then pushed the desire down as it crossed his brain for the millionth time. More alcohol. _How can I go to Ben and Lisa when I'm half gay for an angel? How can I even think about leaving Sam? I don't deserve a family, I barely even deserve the one I got._

"I'm gonna go out for a while. Clear my head," Sam said, grabbing the keys to the Impala. Dean supposed he was growing tired of watching Dean drink, scowl and stare at Cas. After Sam left, Dean crawled into bed, and held the unconscious angel.

"Cas, please wake up. I'm sorry we did this to you. Just… please be okay," he whispered against the warm, scratchy cheek. Cas stirred.

"Dean?" he whispered, eyelids fluttering open. "Where is Sam?"

"Out. Are you okay? You looked pretty bad, dude."

"I will be okay. I am healing as we speak. Are you okay?"

"I guess. After a certain amount of horrible, violent, life-shattering disappointments, you start to get kinda numb," Dean sighed, gently stroking Cas's hair. "I'm glad you're okay. I was worried." He pressed his lips against Cas's. After a desperate moment, they parted. "Are you… how injured are you now?"

"Not that injured." Cas pulled Dean's lips back to his.

They fucked quietly, quickly and gently, aware that Sam could come back any minute, but too shaken by the day's events to be apart. By the time Sam returned, they were asleep, fully clothed, but in the same bed. Sam thought it was a little weird that Dean was sharing Cas's bed, but he would have thought it much weirder to know that under the covers, Dean and Cas clutched each other's hands like they might lose the other forever if they let go.

* * *

><p>Dean stood alone in the junkyard.<p>

"Please. I can't… I need some help. Please." Dean started to cry, the weight of everything finally crushing him. "Please…" No answer. He put his face into his palms, the tears coming faster and faster.

There was a light touch on his shoulder. "Dean." Of course it was Cas, and Dean didn't want to turn around, didn't want to reveal his moment of weakness to anyone, let alone the fucked-up nerd angel. "It's going to be okay. Sam's going to be okay. Don't… Don't give up." The words were meaningless, empty in Dean's ears.

"How can you say that?" his voice broke as he tried desperately to stop the tears. The hand on his shoulder increased pressure, turning him around to face Cas. "Didn't you hear Famine? I'm fucking _dead_ inside, Cas. Nothing left."

"God would not have brought us back if we didn't stand a chance-" Cas started to say more, but Dean cut him off angrily, wiping tears from his eyes as he snapped.

"Fucking shut up about God. He's not answering, Cas, he doesn't care, he's letting all of this happen, he's letting the angels run the show and they're fucking sadistic, selfish bastards." Dean pulled back, the tears done falling but still staining his face. He looked Cas dead in the eye and grated out from between clenched teeth, "I'm fuckin' done with this shit."

He kissed Cas, hard, bruising his lips. Cas was still, slightly in shock for a moment, and then he was kissing Dean back, trying to touch him. Dean pushed his hands away, and pulled at Cas's belt buckle, slid a hand inside and found the contents instantly at attention. Cas tried to stroke him through his jeans, and Dean knocked his hands away. He abruptly pushed the angel down over the hood of the Impala.

"Spread," he said in a low, serious tone, and Cas braced against the side of the car, trench coat a pale splash on the black of the car, ass exposed, obediently spreading his legs for Dean.

With one forceful hand, he held Cas down against the car, and with the other, he yanked down the other man's pants, undid his own and slid inside unceremoniously. Cas looked back at Dean when he entered, eyes widening momentarily in shock, pupils swallowing every hint of blue. He thought it would be tighter, dryer, but Cas was wet and open for him, and he didn't question the mechanics of angels and anal, just let himself get lost in the fucking. Dean was past caring- he took his frustrations at the Angels out on the form in front of him, slamming Castiel into the Impala roughly. Cas moaned, arching back to meet each violent thrust.

"Fuck this. Fuck all of this shit." Dean grunted, and finished. He came back into himself, and saw the shaking body bent over in front of him, panting with his own climax. In the blue eyes, he saw no reproach, only arousal tempered with concern. For a moment, he felt thrilled by at least making something angelic his whore, knowing that Cas, at least, was completely under his dominance. Then, remorse hit. He remembered the sounds of his tortured future sex with Cas. Dean let out a heavy breath, and withdrew from Cas.

"Cas, I'm sorry, I-"

"It's all right, Dean. Whatever I can give you, I will," the angel buckled his pants obliviously and put his arms around Dean, "If you need me in that way, I am happy to let you use me." Dean supposed Castiel really had no idea how that could be taken. "I don't know what's going to happen. I don't have a magic solution for you. I can't even get my Father to talk to me… But I believe in you. I _built_ you, Dean. I rebuilt every cell in your body. That soul you saw today? That was what you looked like to me, when I pulled you from the pit, a white shining soul in the darkness. Pure. You might not have faith in you, but I have faith in you. You will find a way. You _always_ find a way. "

"It's too much, Cas, it's all just… I'm so fucking tired of fighting to hold on to what little I still have. I'm tired of losing people. I don't… I don't know if I can keep fighting." Tears welled up in Dean's eyes again. Cas tightened his arms around Dean, awkwardly attempting to offer solace.

"I'm sorry, Dean. What can I do? How can I help?"

Dean gasped, swallowing the last of his sadness. _Okay, man up, Winchester, _he thought, _there's no answer from Heaven. Do what you always do. Keep going. Fake it til you make it, baby. _Haltingly, he said, "I don't know, Cas. I just… I just don't know. Nothing. Well, no. Thanks, Cas. Thank you. That… that sex helped. Uh. Come inside with me. I need a distraction from all of this, just for tonight." He put his arm around Cas, and led him inside. Cas was still looking at him with that stupid wide-eyed concern.

"Give me your coats… Yeah… Sit there." Dean pointed to what passed for Bobby's living room, a shabby couch and a basic tv/vcr set up. Castiel obediently sat, and Dean located the movie he was thinking of. "This was something I loved when I was a kid."

As the movie started, Dean sat next to Cas, and wrapped his arms around him again. Eventually, he felt Cas begin to relax against him. The angel quickly became enthralled by the story progressing onscreen.

"Mmm." Dean groaned into the side of Cas's head. "Now this is domestic as fuck." _Except for the howling drug addict locked in the panic room, _he thought, and then pushed away the horribly depressing thoughts.

"Shh!" Cas hissed, focused.

On the TV, Spock said, ""Each of us, at some time in our life, turns to someone – a father, a brother, a god – and asks: Why am I here? What was I meant to be? V'Ger hopes to touch its creator to find its answers," to Kirk.

The sun rose at Bobby's as the charges against the Enterprise were being dropped and Kirk was being demoted into a captain for the whole whale fiasco, Dean was sound asleep, having given in to unconsciousness around the beginning of movie four. Castiel was wide awake, nestled in Dean's arms, playing rapt attention to the screen. Bobby returned home at some point, but if he noticed the two men snuggled up on the couch, he didn't say anything about it.

After the first few days, Sam's screaming lessened. Castiel hung around, and he and Dean puttered about, trying to ignore the pleading cries from beneath them. Cas sensed that the domesticity was something Dean needed to take his mind off of everything, so he indulged Dean when he tried to teach Cas to drive. The angel wasn't bad, perse, but he didn't enjoy it and thus didn't pay attention to it for long. He tried to teach him to shoot as well, but Castiel mostly mocked the laws of physics and used Dean's guidance as a flimsy excuse to rub against Dean enticingly. Dean didn't mind. On the third day, Cas tried to play _Star Trek V_ on his own, and broke the TV. Bobby was pissy about that, but Dean found it kinda hilarious, the ashamed confusion of an Angel of the Lord baffled by mechanics of the boob tube.

It was… almost pleasant, to have a week of R&R in the middle of the apocalypse. It wasn't that he was happy, his life had never been more fucked up- the world was ending, his brother was chained in the basement, Bobby stuck in a fucking wheelchair, and he was dead inside. Almost dead. Not quite hopeless enough to say yes, because Dean thought he still loved, loved Sammy, loved Bobby and Cas. Not in love with Cas- it was sad to Dean that the least of his problems was being possibly a little gay for an angel of the lord. He would die for Cas, and the angel had already died for the Winchesters- but he wasn't in love with him. Not ready to be a fag and buy white pants and a subscription to Playguy, for sure. But that didn't stop him from fucking Cas every opportunity he got, like a lovesick teenager. Didn't stop the thrill he got from murmuring filthy things in his ears and watching him get turned on.

Over beers in the junkyard, leaning against the hood of the Impala, Dean said suddenly, "I'm still sorry. What I did, how forceful I was with you the other night. That really wasn't okay."

"I enjoyed it," The angel said, simply, "And you needed it."

"You don't understand, " Dean said fiercely. "In Hell. Alistair. He did that to me, and the worst part was, he made me _like it_, and that's what I did to you. That's all sorts of fucked up, Cas. He-"

"I know, Dean. I know what happened to you in Hell. I did not understand how gravely he had trespassed against you, until we… Until we were intimate, but I knew he had violated you in every possible way one can violate a human. I knew you had done the same to the souls you tortured. But what you and I do… It never comes from a place of anger. It is not torture. It comes from solace. From caring, and trust. Whatever was done to you in Hell, it was not your fault." Dean began to sob again, and Castiel held him and rocked gently back and forth and murmured, "It's going to be okay…"

When they went inside, Bobby was on the scanners. He looked up at them as they entered.

'You wanna go kill some shit?" he asked.

"Fuck yes we do, man." Dean genuinely smiled at that.

"There's a possible werewolf in Madison, it's north about 50 miles. Last month, a killing near the full moon, little girl, this month, I'd expect similar. I was gonna send someone else, but I figured, since you're here…"

"Awesome, Bobby. You sure you'll be okay here?"

"Yeah. Go on, boys, git."

The drive was short and uneventful. Dean got through all of _Led Zeppelin_ and was partway through _Led Zeppelin II_ when they got to Madison. Cas liked _Dazed and Confused_ the most, which pleased Dean, because the song always reminded him of Cas walking through the sparks the first time they met.

Madison was a fairly podunky town, and posing as FBI went extremely smoothly, considering that Cas was doing the impersonating. He'd at least learned his lesson from the last time, and presented his ID right-side-up.

The victim the previous month was a twelve year old girl, who had been walking across the street from her parent's house to her grandmothers. Her body was already buried, but Dean and Cas did a run through of the neighborhood anyways. There wasn't a lot to go on.

They drove around some of the night, walked around, and near three in the morning, they heard terrified shrieking. A werewolf, bigger than any Dean had killed thus far, was dragging another little girl out of her house. He could smell blood in the air, and from the lack of parents panicking, Dean figured that the wolf had already gotten them. He fired, missed the heart, but pissed the fucker off, because it dropped the girl, and turned, rushing him. Dean ninja rolled out of the way, adrenaline pumping. This was what he was in it for, a good, clean hunt, clear cut evil and an innocent to save. He saw Cas grab the girl and zap her out of their, as per their agreed-upon plan. The werewolf was circling back on him now, and too close to use the gun. Dean pulled out the long silver knife, and smiled.

"So you think you're the big bad wolf?" he smiled, and advanced on the wolf.

To his surprise, the wolf grinned back. "Oh, no, I'm not the big bad wolf, just one of his first born. What does that make you? The hunter's son?"

They circled each other, warily.

"I'm pretty sure the hunter kills the wolf, if you're set on fairy-tailing it up." Dean said, waiting for even the smallest opening to present itself.

"The hunter wasn't even in the original, boy." The wolf lifted its upper lip in a snarl, showing his fangs again. He was a big man, bald with tribal tattoos along his large arms. He was wearing black, and his eyes glinted pale gold in the dark. "When we hunted Little Red, she was alone in the woods, and when she got to her Grandmother's house, we were already there, and we turned Red and let her feed on her grandmother's corpse. And you think you can stop me? My father-" Silver seemed to explode out of the wolf's chest. Dean jumped back in surprise, and then saw Cas standing behind the wolf as he fell.

"Woah." Dean looked at Cas with approval. "What a big stabbing knife you have." Cas looked confused at the reference, but pleased with himself.

"What do you think he meant by father? Is there another?"

"I dunno. We'll stick around tomorrow, see if there's any more killings, but I don't think there will be. They don't remember, when they're human, so I don't know how they'd stick together."

The Alpha watching them from the trees slipped silently away. His pack was so ancient that they were always wolves now, always hungry. He didn't like America- he'd thought coming here would make life easier, that he could have his fill of little girls. Instead, he'd lost half his children to hunters. He hated it here, he decided. He was returning to his home, to France, where at least he knew the forests.

There were no more killings, and Cas and Dean returned to Bobby's when they were sure there weren't any more werewolves. Sam was doing much better, and the next day, he was finally out of the panic room, rational and sober again. Cas stayed to greet Sam, and express his relief, and then he vanished to wherever Cas vanished to when he left, and Sam and Dean got ready to hunt. They spent a few days on the road after they left Bobby's, but then Sam caught wind of something odd in Sioux Falls and they headed back to check it out.

* * *

><p>When they left Bobby's after the zombie attack, they were feeling crappy, and when they finally stopped driving because Sam was whining that he wanted to shower and lay down, Dean was too restless to do the same. He snapped that he was going out, and stalked down the road. <em>Not that I'm mad at Sammy, no, I'm just at the end of my goddamned rope, is all<em>, he thought, jamming his hands down into his pockets and pulling up his collar.

_Have I ever been in love?_ He thought hard about the women he'd known, about his whatever it was with Cas. _I mean, I can love. I know I can love. I thought I mighta been, with Cassie. I could be, with Lisa, I know it, I could love her so fuckin' easy if it wasn't the goddamned Apocalypse every goddamned day. What is love? What's that shit Cas said? Love is patient, love is kind, no envy, no pride, it's honorable and selfless, doesn't get angry, doesn't hold grudges, rejoices in truth. Endures all things._

Dean stopped short. He thought about Cas, giving up everything he'd ever believed in for Dean, risking his life for him over and over because Dean asked it of him. He thought about the sex, the conversations as they held each other in the dark. He thought about what Chuck had told him.

_Fuck. That idiot is in love with me._ _He would Fall for me, if I asked him. So, that begs the obvious question- do I love him?_

He started walking again, trying to reason it out.

_Nope. No. I love the shit out of Cas, I do, I'd die for the son of a bitch, but I'm not in love with him. Can't be. If I fall in love with Cas, I'm fucked, they'll use it to hurt me, they'll use it against me. And it'd fuck up Cas's angel gig forever, basically doom him to living our shitty mortal life, hunting… Can't do it. I want out, I want normal, and loving Cas isn't normal. Wow. I can't even bring myself to be in love with the person I'm fucking on a regular basis. Shit, it really is a regular basis. This is the longest time I've ever had the same sex partner, ever._

_Fuck._ He slammed his fist into the nearest tree.

_It's all too fucking much. I can't save anyone, I can't fix Sammy, couldn't save Pamela or Jo or Ellen or even bring Bobby a little peace. Everyone I love is going to die bloody, and they're gonna do it because of my fucking pride. Which is apparently all I have left. _He looked down at his bleeding knuckles, barely feeling the pain.

_Fuck._

* * *

><p>Team Freewill kept on powering though, as always. After they got back on the road, things seemed almost normal for five seconds, and then, in the morning of their third day on the road, Sam and Dean were shot and killed in their beds.<p>

* * *

><p>Cas had truly enjoyed the week at Bobby's. He liked Dean's life- the hunting, the guns and the beers. He loved being around Dean, sharing the physical intimacy with him, both sexually and just in relishing human contact. He really liked <em>Star <em>_Trek._ It hurt in his chest to know that the only reason that he could share such an experience with Dean was to distract him from the pain of what Sam was going through, but it didn't stop Cas from taking pleasure in what parts of it he could. He thought that maybe Dean did the same. Cas thought that if only it wasn't because of Sam's addiction, that if Sam was well, and that was simply their life, he could be just as happy with the Winchesters as he had ever been in Heaven. Happier, even.

For Cas, it had ended all too soon, and then he was back to searching for a way to talk to Joshua. The only angel that would talk to him now was an archangel named Balthazar. He wasn't an Archangel like Raphael, but merely one of the lowest orders of warrior angels, a foot solider. As such, he wasn't helpful to Castiel in a technical sense, other than keeping Cas up to date on what was general knowledge in Heaven. Balthazar had always sort of looked up to Cas, and it made Cas uncomfortable to think of himself as a role model, rather than as a disgrace, but he liked Balthazar, and now that he was starting to understand the dynamics of the Winchesters, he almost regarded Balthazar as a younger brother, rather than an angelic one.

He was on his way to meet with Balthazar, when he was struck by a wave of nausea, followed by stabbing pains through his heart.

_Dean is dead._ He knew it, rather than thought it; he just suddenly knew that it was the truth.

Then, though, he had a thought. _That means that Dean is in Heaven,_


	9. Your Demons, Do They Ever Let You Go

**Chapter Nine: Your Demons, Do They Ever Let You Go**

"Not so fast, Dean," Joshua said after Sam blinked out of Heaven. "I have more thing to tell you, from me, personally, not God. I have something of a soft spot for Castiel. He's the angel of Thursdays, you know. He hears the prayers of all those conceived on Thursday. He's heard your prayers your whole life. He needs you, Dean, now more than ever. Please don't let him weather this storm alone."

Dean woke up, sucking in air like he'd forgotten how. He tried to process the events of Heaven, to wrap his mind around everything he'd learned._ In between God not giving a shit, Sammy's deepest desires and Cas's pain, I don't have time to deal with being practically dead inside. Fuck. Sammy… now that was cold, he's been trying to get away from me his whole life... And Cas, he's… he's been there my whole life, and now he's even more in the same boat that we are, than ever. How is an angel going to process realizing he's a latchkey kid?_

Dean was more touched than he could even admit to himself that Cas really was, for lack of a less gay description, his guardian angel, that Cas had loved him before he'd even known angels were was left of his heart nearly broke when he was forced to deliver the message from God to Cas. He looked at the amulet in his hand, and every fiber of his being ached to offer Cas the comfort Cas had offered him, and it hit him, all of sudden, like lightening to the chest.

_This is it. This is love. I would give anything to spare him this. Son of a bitch, I'm in love with Cas, after all. I am so fucked._ On top of how ragingly hurt he was by Sam, and the sheer stress of dying, Dean couldn't react, was too tired to do anything but stare at Cas as the angel tried to come to terms with his Father's abandonment.

Then, Cas was gone, and Sam was trying to pretend things weren't totally fucked. After Dean ended that by just walking out, they were off to change quarters and maybe get some sleep that didn't involve dying.

Separate rooms seemed more appropriate, after everything that had happened between the Winchesters. Dean stripped and fell into the sheets. He was barely asleep an hour when Cas appeared and crept into bed with him. He woke up the hunter with hungry kisses and bites along his neck and then the slow, firm pressure of Cas's incredible mouth around his dick.

"Oh, yeah…" he groaned, half asleep, and then Cas cupped his balls, dragging his nails softly over the seam. Dean was fully awake now. "Cas?"

Cas moved up his body, whispered in Dean's ear, "I want you to _fuck_ me, Dean. Now."

Dean pushed Cas down on the bed below him. "I will. Slow down. Are you ok?"

"How could I be okay? I don't want to discuss it. Fuck me."

Dean didn't know what else to do, so he kissed Castiel gently on the mouth. He tasted liquor, but didn't say anything about it, instead slowly twisting his hand up and down the angel's shaft. Cas moaned and thrust against him, biting Dean's lip, raking his nails across Dean's back insistently. Dean deepened his kiss, pulling Cas's as close to himself as possible, refusing to quicken the pace of his strokes. "Dean. I need you in me, _please._" Dean looked Cas in the eyes, holding the gaze as he slid into Cas. He continued stroking Cas's cock, and as he felt the welcoming walls close around him, he moaned, "Fuck." Dean tried to make it last as long as possible, slowing his pace each time the angel sought to increase it, but finally, Castiel clenched around him in that perfect, electric way and pulled Dean forward as he climaxed against Dean's stomach. As Dean came, the words slipped out involuntarily, sincerely meant but worth nothing due to their circumstances.

"I love you." Cas looked like Dean had punched him in the stomach, and disappeared, leaving Dean alone and shaking in the aftermath.

* * *

><p><em>Nothing matters. We are completely, utterly alone, and none of this matters. My Father abandoned us all, and nothing, not love, not hope, nothing will save us now. Empty words from an empty heart mean nothing, and I can't do this, I can't fight, I am not fucking strong enough.<em> Cas didn't know where to go, he didn't even know what town he had sent himself to, he just knew he had to do something to stop the pain.

He wandered the streets, trying to make sense of his existence, and finally came to a stop in front of a grungy store with fluorescent lights proclaiming the sale of alcohol.

_Well, there's something I can believe in,_ he thought.

* * *

><p>Again, weeks passed with no word from the angel. In addition to the usual Apocalyptic doom, Dean had spent the time agonizing equally about Sam and his weaknesses and about Dean's own inability to help Castiel in his time of despair and obsessing about what being in love with Cas might mean for him. He watched a gay porno one night, but all it did was make him slightly uncomfortable. He figured it was just the situation, that Cas was readily available, and loved him, and that it was kinda comforting to have a sexual partner that could take care of himself in a fight. Well, sort of take care of himself. He figured someone who was dead inside can't really love anyway, so it was just a reaction to everything else that sucked around him. It didn't make him hurt any less for Cas, though.<p>

As things between himself and Sam worsened, Dean's last shreds of hope slipped away. He could almost feel them snap, one by one. No matter what comfort he had taken in Cas, it didn't change what was about to happen. It didn't change Dean's belief that sooner or later, Sam would say yes, and then it really wouldn't matter who was gay or straight, who he loved or hated, they would all be dead. Dean was fucking terrified for the loved ones he had left. His thoughts wouldn't stop turning to Lisa and Ben these days, wishing he could protect them, and everyone else beloved to him from the coming storm, but for the first time, he didn't believe he could.

When Cas reappeared to help them in Blue Earth, drunk as fuck, Dean became absolutely convinced there was no hope. If Cas and Sam had lost faith, what reason did Dean have to keep it? He felt obligated to put on a brave face, but that was the moment he knew, there was no other choice but saying "Yes," to Michael.

He found the angel outside, weary, the same defeat that was consuming Dean consuming the angel as well. He tried then, to offer what sympathy and solace he could.

"Well, sometimes, you get to kill the Whore," he said, and offered his characteristic half smile. Cas looked at him, at least now looking more quizzical than sad. He sat down next to Cas, and put his arms around the slumped shoulders. "I'm sorry."

Cas shrugged him off. "It doesn't matter. We have more important matters to concern ourselves with now." The angel stood, staggering slightly.

"Really, man. It's going to be-"

"Okay?" a wry mockery of a smile twisted Cas's lips, "And how do you know that?'

"I don't," Dean said quietly. "It's just kinda what we say… And whatever I did the other night to make you go, I'm sorry for that, too."

"Dean. Can I ask something of you?"

"Yeah."

"Don't leave me. Please. Promise me, you won't leave. Not for Michael, not for anyone." The blue eyes were intensely serious.

The lie fell easily from Dean's lips. "I won't." The angel could have called him out on it, but he didn't. Maybe he was too drunk to mind-mojo Dean. Maybe it was easier to just believe.

When Dean left Blue Earth, he knew he was doing the right thing. Sam was gonna say yes, sooner or later, Cas was a fuckin' mess, and Dean was absolutely convinced that the only thing he could do at this point was sacrifice himself for the people he loved. He could see the faces of the people he'd failed- Jo and Ellen, Pamela, his parents, in his mind's eye, and he tried to picture the faces of the people he could save if he just said yes. Cas, with his faith restored, Sammy, able to be at peace, no longer feeling the pressure to fight like Dean and John. Dean pictured Lisa and Ben, almost fucking cried at the thought of Ben growing up, being guaranteed the chance to grow up. Dean suddenly knew where he had to go, one last stop before he called Zack.

* * *

><p>Dean whispered in Lisa's ear, "Whether or not Ben's my blood, I will always think of him as my son," and kissed her, said good bye, and left, feeling empty inside. Before he'd seen her, it'd been so clear. Now, he didn't want to go, everything in him just wanted to go back and ask for that beer, to forget about all the damn supernatural fuckers after his ass, and just pretend that it was okay, that he could stay with her and live the American Dream.<p>

_If this is the right thing to do,_ he thought,_ then why do I feel like I'm fucking everyone over?_

He wrote Sam and Bobby a letter, packed away his things. He started on his second bottle, trying to steel himself for what he knew was coming.

When he was brought back to Bobby's, he was fucking pissed again. He forgot the doubts instantly, and was instead just fuckin' pissed at Sam for once again acting like he was the smart one, the mature one, when it was his fuckin' fault that they were in this mess to begin with, when he was the one who was the raging, self righteous blood addict.

When Bobby shamed him, it almost worked, for a second. If Cas hadn't brought Adam back at that particular moment, maybe Dean would've cooled down enough to remember why he fought to begin with, but then it was all too apparent that here was another person who he couldn't fail again, couldn't let Adam suffer in Dean's place. It didn't help that Cas was acting like a slighted girlfriend, slinging little barbs at him. Dean could feel the fucking ice-cold eyes glaring at his back, and when he turned around and told Cas to blow him, the look on the angels face almost made him lose it, made him want to run over and apologize, but he couldn't.

_Cas doesn't get it_, he thought,_ he doesn't get that this is for him, this is for all of them. It's not about weakness, it's about acceptance._

* * *

><p>Adam wasn't sure what the truth was, exactly, but he knew that these people were obviously not stable.<p>

_Do they realize how fucked up it is to be preaching love and family and blood while bickering incessantly?_ he wondered.

The older brother, Dean, seemed to be involved in some sort of lover's quarrel with the man in the trench coat, who was glaring daggers at Dean's back in between his bitter comments. When Dean told the guy to blow him, Adam could almost feel the sexual tension explode out of Trench-coat dude. The younger brother, Sam, was high on hippie bullshit, sappy and naive, obviously trying too hard to be what the other men thought he was. It did nothing to win Adam's trust that Dean obviously had no trust whatsoever in Sam's earnestness. He felt kinda bad for the wheelchair guy, having to put up with babysitting these idiots all the time, and not even being able to walk.

_Okay,_ he thought,_ Dean's pretty funny. It might not have sucked entirely growing up around them, _but then he thought about his mom, and remembered that this wasn't about what might have been. This was about his family.

* * *

><p>"What the hell are you gonna do with that?" Sam asked as Cas pulled out a box-cutter.<p>

"I need your help," Cas looked at Dean. "The banishing sigil, can you cut it into my chest?"

"Woah," Dean blinked, "That's genius, Cas. Yeah."

Cas unbuttoned his shirt, and Dean made the cuts quickly and lightly. His hands were steady as he slid the blade through the places he had caressed before. Dean could smell him- Cas was picking up human smells, the smells of road, cars, sweat, booze and blood.

As he sliced, it occurred to him that despite his betrayal of Cas, the angel still must trust him a little, at least, to let him cut him, even just to be here, ready to sacrifice himself for the Winchesters, ready to die for Dean, again. But it wasn't like shallow cuts meant much to an angel. Then again, Sam had brought him here, and Bobby kept going each day because of Dean. _Why do these dumb sons of bitches see good in me? _he wondered, _why do they have faith in me that I don't have in myself? _When he finished, he looked up and met Cas's gaze. "Good luck?" he said questioningly. There was so much more he wanted to say to Cas, but the words wouldn't come.

Cas said nothing, but he stepped close to Dean for a moment, and Dean felt something cold against his hand, and then felt Cas's fingertips linger against his for a moment. The look in Cas's eyes said everything Dean had just been thinking- that despite his actions, Cas still had absolute faith in Dean. When he looked down, he saw the angel killing sword.

* * *

><p>Of course, Dean left him, twice. Castiel had beat the living shit out of Dean for it.<p>

_Hell hath no fury like what now? _Standing in the alley, looking at the beaten body of his lover, Cas felt remorse for a minute. "I'm sorry," he murmured to the unconscious man. Even with the verbal barbs- Castiel had almost lost all control when Dean had made the comment about the way Cas looked at him. It hadn't bothered Cas at all that Dean had gone to Lisa- Ben was his kid, after all, and Cas knew exactly how much Dean loved her, even if Dean himself didn't get it, but it wounded him to know that Dean had lied to him, betrayed him, and then sent him away when Cas had gone to try and talk to him rationally, to explain how he had so much faith in Dean, and would give anything for him, and that all he asked in return was that Dean stay true to the sales pitch he'd given Cas in the Green Room, the day that Castiel had rebelled.

When Dean had looked at him, asked him to just do it, Cas knew his bluff was called. Dean knew as well as Cas did that Cas would never kill him, that Cas would in fact, do anything to save him, even if what was required was saving Dean from himself.

When Castiel walked into the Van Nuys warehouse, he was praying. He couldn't help it. Force of habit. He wasn't praying so much that God would make good Castiel's faith in Dean as that Dean was already worth it, unto himself.

* * *

><p>Over the next days, Dean didn't want to believe Castiel was dead, but as day after day passed with no word from the angel, he started to lose hope that Cas was alive. <em>I failed Adam, again, <em>he thought_, How am I supposed to go on, when everything is crumbling around me? How am I supposed to protect my family? The only reason I don't give up right now is that at least I didn't fail Sam. I didn't fail Cas. I didn't say yes, I kept fighting for what we believe in. At least I can be the man they believe me to be, even when we all die bloody._

* * *

><p>When Cas woke up, sore and bloody and smelling of shrimp, he discovered that when one opened one's self up to the spectrum of human emotion, one can feel a million different emotions at the same time. The most surprising was relief to be alive. When he had gone into the warehouse, he had been ready to die and be done with the muck of humanity.<p>

_Dean,_ he thought suddenly. He reached out with the tiny flicker of Grace he still possessed, _Not taken by Michael. Okay. Good,_ and then, completely drained of Grace, unconsciousness claimed him again.

He drifted in and out of consciousness for days. When he was out, for the first time in his life, he dreamed. He dreamed of Dean, of being human and being with Dean, of living the life he had heard Sam and Dean discuss so often, with white picket fences and apple pie. He dreamed of _Star Trek_ and Clint Eastwood. He dreamed of Heaven, the way it was before God had abandoned them all.

Once, he dreamed of Gabriel. Gabriel came to him in his favorite place, the meadow with the kite, and gave him an ice cream cone.

"Hey, bro."

"Gabriel," Cas acknowledged, accepting the cone.

"I wanted to tell you something, before I vamoose. You were right, about the humans. I don't know why you like the short, scrappy fucker so much, Sammy's definitely the one to go for if you're into dudes, but in any case, you could do a lot worse than Dean. I was wrong to say he won't choose you. He already did, in the way that counts. He's hurting, without you, although he's disguising it with sarcasm and _Casa Erotica_. "

"That's how he is. Underneath all the bravado, he is every bit the Righteous Man. He is everything our Father loved about the humans," Cas looked at Gabriel, "Where are you going?"

"Lucy got me. I'm done, I'm gone, I'm rambling on, Cassy. But I wanted to tell you that you were right. They are better than us. They forgive, they try to be better. I wish I'd realized it before it was too late, but there you go. I hope it all works out for you in the end."

"Maybe God will bring you back, someday."

"I hope so. If he does, first thing I'm gonna do is climb Sam like a tall, sexy mountain. You and Dean just make it look so fun," Gabriel winked at him, and Cas rolled his eyes.

"I sincerely hope you didn't really watch us."

"Oh, you bet I did. The panties thing? HILARIOUS. You stay classy, bro," and then Gabriel was gone.

Finally, Cas woke up, and was well enough to get his hands on a phone, and call Dean. Insufficient apologies were made but at least the door was still open.

He bought a bus ticket, and made it onto the infernal contraption with few problems. Once aboard, though, he discovered exactly how infernal it was. The seat was impossible to sit comfortably on, his body itched in weird places, and as the ride went on and on, his tailbone began to throb. He shifted restlessly in his seat, hating feeling uncomfortable and useless, hating the overwhelming feeling-ness of being almost human. He was uncomfortable with the smelly man who was touching himself in the seat behind Cas, as well.

After dealing with Pestilence, he and Dean mutually avoided being alone together, as preparations for their apocalypse prevention began, and there was too much to say and not the time or privacy to say it. They were too wrapped up in their own pain to even begin to talk about what had occurred between them. It was enough that Dean hadn't said yes. Dean went to Chicago and Cas went to with Sam and Bobby after the Croatoan virus.

When Team Freewill rejoined, Cas and Sam went off to practice shooting, now that Cas felt the need to be able to use a gun. When they returned, Bobby and Dean were sitting in the junkyard, drinking beers. They all sat around for a while, drinking and bullshitting but one after the other, they all went to bed, exhausted in every possible way.

Cas crept into Dean's room a few hours later. The digital clock by Dean's bed flashed to 11:13 pm as he entered.

"Dean?" he asked softly, and Dean was already awake. He had actually been lying in bed awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, wondering if he should go to Cas.

"Hey." Dean smiled. Cas felt relief wash over him again. Dean pulled aside the covers and when their lips met, Castiel knew both of their sins were forgiven. He felt the hunter's hands slide down his sides, and pull him closer. He buried his face in the crook of Dean's neck, and inhaled the wonderful human scent. They made love slowly, languidly, as if they had all the time in the world. Cas kissed every inch of Dean's skin, marking it silently as his, claiming each hip bone and finally Dean's cock, licking and kissing it lightly and then increasingly possessively. When he felt Dean quiver, about to lose control, he stopped and slowly kissed his way back up the length of Dean's torso, savoring the feel of the hot skin against his lips. He pulled Dean over onto him, finally impatient, and lost himself in lips on lips and flesh on flesh as Dean slid inside him. He felt peaceful, for a little while, each time Dean entered him, as if all the problems they faced were gone while their bodies were joined, and this time, it was compounded by how human Cas was. Unable to read Dean's mind, he had expected their connection to be less intense. Instead, he was amazed at the sensation, how overwhelmed he felt by Dean's caresses. He hadn't expected to feel like he wasn't in control of himself, that he was comfortable with Dean being in control of him. He was surprised at how well they knew each other's bodies, and in awe of how Dean made him feel so fragile and so strong at the same time. They gasped silently, in unison, as they came.

"Oh, Cas," Dean whispered, and withdrew. He didn't let go of him, though. "I thought I really lost you, this time. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry that I left you."

"I am sorry that I doubted you. I felt… I wanted to give up, too. I wanted this constant struggle to be over," Cas sighed. He felt an odd sensation prickle at his eyelids. "But then, I lived. I was angry, and I hurt _everywhere_, but I was so happy at the same time, to still be alive."

"I'm glad you are," Dean ran a hand along Cas's jaw, "I love you, Cas."

"And I love you, but I know it can't amount to anything more than this. I understand how things are." Cas's eyes still burned, and he felt liquid begin to ooze from the corners.

"Aw, come on, baby, don't cry." Dean laid a gentle kiss on each eyelid. "I'm sorry that it has to be this way." Now that the tears had started, they kept coming faster and faster, until Castiel was sobbing for the first time in his life. Dean held him until they subsided.

Then Dean spoke again. "I really am sorry, Cas. You know I want a normal life. More than anything, I want us all to be safe and warm and happy. But that is not what we've been given. And for what it's worth, I'm so fucking happy that you've been here through the last few years. You made it almost bearable. If we were different people, different lives…" Dean sighed heavily, "Who knows. We're forever searching for love in forms it never takes, in places it can never be," Dean chuckled a little, "That's Vonnegut. If we lived those different lives, I'd give you a copy of _Cat's Cradle_. You'd like it. It's about God."

Castiel regarded Dean solemnly. "Did Sam tell you about his plan?"

"You mean to jump in the hole? Yeah."

"And?"

"I think it's fucking crazy. I just… I want so bad to have faith in Sammy, I do, but after everything? I just can't. What do you think of it?"

"I think it might be our only hope."

"Yeah. Death and Bobby agree." It was Dean's turn to tear up.

"I think you and Sam have surprised me time and time again with your ability to… ah… what's the phrase? Kick it in the ass?"

"Heh." Dean choked out a half laugh. "Yeah. But… Fuck, Cas, even if he did it, even if he jumps, that means he's gone, forever. In the hole. Everything will be different."

"Different? Or back to normal?"

"How could it be normal without Sammy? How could I keep going?" A single tear made its way down Dean's cheek.

"I know it is too much to ask of you that you lose your brother." Cas reached up and wiped it away. "But everything that is asked of all of us is too much. All the people of earth… And you know it is Sam's desire to put their lives before his."

Dean took a deep breath, exhaled slowly. "Yeah. I know. I just wish there was another way."

"I, as well."

"He might take us all with him, you know. This could be it. For real, this time. If he jumps… no matter how many of us die, without Michael and Lucifer, everything could be peaceful."

"Maybe. Or, new leaders will emerge from the ranks. But there are other hunters. People who will take up the fight, no matter when we go."

"No paradise, no hell on earth, just humanity. That's what I want."

"Then you know already what you have to do." Dean's eyes welled up again, and Cas could see him holding it back. "I'm sorry, Dean. I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry, too." They lay for a while, each holding and stroking the other in comfort. Then Dean spoke again. "So… This could really be the last night on earth. Betting everything we've got, playing for keeps."

"Are you giving me the last night on earth line again?" Cas's lips twisted up into a small smile.

Dean smiled a little, too. "Maybe…"

They made love again, passionately, desperately, both aware that this time, most likely really was the last time.

The next day, the plan was set in motion. The sleep Dean and Cas had gotten was not sufficient for the extent of Cas's exhaustion. He fell asleep almost as soon as they got in the car. He awoke suddenly in the darkened car, to Sam saying, "Hey, on the subject, there's something I wanna talk to you about." Cas stayed as he was, curious.

"You pray to god she's dumb enough to take you in, and you - you have barbecues and go to football games. You go live some normal, apple-pie life, Dean. Promise me."

Castiel kept his eyes shut, but he understood suddenly what Gabriel had meant. As comforting and intense as the love he and Dean shared was, it couldn't compare to what Sam described as apple pie life. Dean and Cas could never have that in this world. Nothing Castiel had could offer what Lisa and Ben could offer him. He had nothing to compare to that happiness- _if things go in our favor, I will have a place to return to in Heaven, and after all, he went to Lisa when he left me. She has his child, she has a life free of the supernatural forces that have destroyed everything he's ever loved. I can't give him that, and I want him to be at peace, I would give anything to just give him that peace_, he thought, and was surprised that there was the tiniest tinge of regret to the knowledge.

They got to Detroit, and the boys went upstairs to trick the Devil, leaving Cas and Bobby to keep watch. Bobby sighed as they walked away.

"You and Dean. You boys got somethin' goin' on?"

Castiel was taken aback. "I… uh… Not really."

"But you love him." Bobby looked uncomfortable but determined to have this talk with Cas.

"Yes. But it doesn't matter." Castiel looked away.

"I'm not an idjit. I seen you all snuggly-like around the place, and my wall's aren't all reinforced iron, you know."

Castiel blushed at the thought of Bobby listening to their fornicating. "I apologize for disturbing you."

"You should be. I'm scarred for life. But if you love him and he loves you, well. I think you know by now, this ain't an easy line of work. You take what joy you can find."

"I think there are other people Dean could be happier with. Lisa, for example. He loves her, you know, loves the idea of the apple pie life with her and the child. I could never give him that, and in any case, we might very well all die today."

"I reckon. Heh. Apple pie life. I know you didn't come to that conclusion on your own, son. Either way, he's been with you this last year, not her, and I saw how it was with you an' him. I guess it all rests on how today goes down, but for what it's worth. I ain't never seen Dean as comfortable as he is 'round you. Whatever there is between you boys, it's somethin' special. "

A bright light flashed in the window. Castiel felt worry begin to twist his stomach again. "I don't think any of it will matter soon, Bobby."

* * *

><p>"Well, there's got to be something we can do." Dean looked at him, and Cas knew that Dean was silently begging him to have faith in Sam, to keep his faith in Dean, because if Cas believed in Dean, Dean could believe in Dean. Cas wanted to have it, wanted to give it to him, but all he had left was an overwhelming pit of despair.<p>

'I'm sorry, Dean. This is over."

After Dean stormed away, Cas prayed to his Father. He knew that there would be no answer, but with every fiber of his being, he silently begged God to just grant them this victory, to just give Dean the life he dreamed of. _Kill me, end me forever, let me die for his sins, just please, Father, please. Give Dean what he wants. Give him freedom from Destiny._

Of course there was no answer.

* * *

><p>"Well, I ain't gonna let him die alone." Dean slammed the door of the Impala and left Cas and Bobby standing in the middle of the street. Bobby looked at Castiel. Castiel looked back at Bobby forlornly.<p>

"I want to spare him this pain."

"That ain't within your powers, boy."

'It's not fair. None of this is fair. What are we supposed to do?" Cas understood now what it was to be totally without hope.

"Well, I reckon we all go die together, then." Bobby sighed, and without waiting for Castiel's response, he got into his car.

Cas stood alone for a moment, then said, "I reckon," very quietly, and then followed Bobby.

* * *

><p>Cas and Bobby could see Dean's entrance onto the battlefield. What Cas found remarkable was the casualness of Dean's interference, the love and the bravery radiating from him. This was why they fought. For love, for family. Because there was no other choice, even if there should be. Cas was terrified, hands shaking as he lit his Holy Molotov, but he didn't waver. He knew if their positions were reversed, Dean wouldn't hesitate.<p>

"Hey! Assbutt!" As soon as Lucifer looked sharply at him, Castiel thought _Big mistake. This is going to cost me,_ and then, there was nothing.

* * *

><p><em>Everything and everyone Dean loves is gone, and he is alone and beaten and bloody in the middle of the boneyard. He doesn't even remember how to move, the pain is overwhelming on every level. He's sitting there, trying to muster up the strength to go get his fucking Colt, to end it, and then Castiel is there, alive, and beautiful and for a second Dean thinks Cas really might be God, and the thought is too fucking terrifying not to voice. He's not, but he is full of angel juice, and he brings back Bobby. They all stand around the cemetery til dark, drinking whiskey in silence. It's Bobby who speaks first, then Dean, remembering sacred moments. Even Cas has something eloquent to say about Sam's courage and honor. Eventually, they part ways with Bobby, and then just as suddenly as this whole day started, Cas leaves, he doesn't even offer to stay and Dean isn't capable of asking him to give up everything for him again. Cas is gone, and Dean is alone again. All he has is the promise he made to Sam, and he's going to keep it.<em>


	10. I Closed My Eyes And She Slipped Away

_Author's Note: Well, in some biblical mythology, the jaws of the Leviathan is the gates of hell, and I wrote this before 7.01 aired, so I tried to modify it to preserve the continuity of not violating canon, but also to preserve my joke of how Cas springs Sam, because I amuse myself with things like that. Hrm. And I wrote Lisa Lis', because I feel like Dean calls her "Leese" moreso, but I have no idea how to spell that shit.  
><em>

**Chapter Ten: I Closed My Eyes And She Slipped Away**

_Back into the mouth of hell,_ Castiel thought_, well, not the mouth, exactly._ The Alpha Leviathan, the first of the beasts created by God, the Father of them all, was the container of Hell itself. His mouth was the Gates of Hell, which meant the back door was…

_It is amusing to think of the mouth of Hell as the more pleasant entrance,_ he thought with a wry grimace.

He was aware that the pack of hellhounds had caught his scent and would catch up with him sooner, rather than later, but evading them would be the easiest thing he had to do tonight.

_No pressure, though. All you have to do is not fail in picking the most complex lock in existence and then only open the door enough to not let Michael and Lucifer out and undo everything we spent the last two years fighting for._ He had made up his mind when he left Dean in the Impala that he had to do whatever he could to get Sam out of the Pit. Dean was bound by his word to go to Lisa and to move on, but Cas was bound by his love of Dean to do whatever he could to help Dean, and he knew that Dean's true wishes were for Sam's return, above all else.

He heard the baying of the hounds, and flew faster, the strokes of his wings inaudible through the tortured screams of Hell. If it wasn't for the complete chaos in the wake of Lucifer's absence, Castiel would never have gotten this far alone. Ahead, he saw the gaping maw that was the Leviathan. _Fuck you, _he thought, and dove down, down, past the belly of the beast. He tried very hard not to think about exactly what the nature of the other door to hell was. He slipped silently up the disgusting passageway, grateful that he could choose not to smell the stench of the Leviathan's intestinal tract. Clearing the bowels, Cas hid and tried to get his bearings. The seven circles whirled above him, black smoke and flames curling up from the belly of the beast.

_The heart. The cage must be inside the heart of the beast._ Climbing up the walls would be taxing, but he couldn't risk flying. At least he seemed to have slipped the hounds.

It took him a month, in Hell's convoluted time. His fingers were torn and bleeding, by the time he dragged himself into the cave that housed the heart, and he lay, gasping on the ground.

"So… which one of you is this? Of course it's the Winchester's butt-boy. You would be the one to come poking around again. However did you get past Cerberus?" A demon slid around the corner behind him.

"Alistair." Castiel acknowledged. "I didn't go past Cerberus." He felt new energy fueled by rage flooding his body. _You raped the man I love. I will gut you,_ he thought.

"You actually used the back door? You have to be shitting me." Alistair laughed at his own joke hysterically.

"I thought Sam killed you."

"Oh, you know how these things are. How effective can a demon-killing spell be when it's powered by demon blood? I can't go topside again, though… Looks like I'll have to wait til your boy makes it down here again to tease those perky little-"

Castiel swung at Alistair, feeling the satisfying crunch of demon tissue under his knuckles. He wrapped his hand around the demon's throat, choking him more for the intimidation factor than anything else. He reached his other hand into Alistair's gut, and yanked backwards, his fist full of demon intestine.

"You will _never_ touch Dean again. You will never touch _anyone _again!" Cas laid his bloody hand on Alistair's head, and light poured from his orifices.

Another demon manifested quite suddenly behind Cas, and grabbed him about the throat. _Of course it isn't going to be that easy._ Castiel began to fight for his life in earnest.

Hours later, Castiel stood, panting, torn, bruised and bleeding. Every demon Sam had killed with the knife or with his powers apparently was sent to hover about the cage, bound to the area forever. Fighting the demon hordes wasn't the end, though. _Now, the hard part,_ he thought, and began to carefully, delicately, using every psychic power he possessed, to pick the lock.

* * *

><p>After all that, something was wrong. He couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was about Sam, but Castiel knew in his gut that he brought Sam back <em>wrong<em>, and the shame of it twisted in his stomach. He meant to devote more time to fixing him, but as soon as he set foot back in Heaven, Rachel and the others needed him, and Raphael threatened everything Castiel had fought for. He wanted to go to Dean, wanted more than anything else at times to simply tear out his Grace and be done with the whole mess, but that's not what a Winchester would do, now was it? The one time he went to Dean to ask for his help, the demon, Crowley, had stopped him. Although it sickened Cas to deal with the new self-styled Lord of Hades, he could not see another way. Crowley's plan seemed ideal, in some ways, to occupy the strange version of Sam that Cas had brought back, and keep him from Dean and his apple pie life.

Cas fought side by side with Rachel, Balthazar, and others, watched his siblings fall in battle, skirmish after skirmish where no matter who won, someone he loved died. As a year slowly passed, he began to forget little things- the way Dean smelled, the sweetness of his kisses, the intoxication of skin on skin contact. Castiel thought increasingly that human emotions were a weakness he could not afford. He disliked the aching in his chest when he thought of Dean, hated wishing that he could be a part of Dean's life. He hated feeling guilty that he would rather be on Earth than with his family. He hate feeling, and did everything in his power to stop.

When he heard Dean pray for him again, though, it all came rushing back. The way his eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled, the ramshackle sense of morality, the bond that tied them to each other like the warriors of ancient Greece. He went to Dean, half terrified, half excited.

* * *

><p>Castiel hated lying to Dean. He was terrified that admitting he raised Sam would bring to light that there was something terribly <em>not right<em> about the younger Winchester, and he knew that his dealings with Crowley would be repugnant to Dean. He didn't want to see disgust and pain in Dean's eyes.

At Dean's defensiveness when the bond they had shared was mentioned, Castiel's pride overrode his incredible joy at seeing Dean, and he instantly withdrew, becoming condescending to hide his hurt. He reminded himself that caring for Dean, _loving_ Dean, was a weakness that would be used against him by his enemies.

* * *

><p>Cas was shocked to find Balthazar alive. He had mourned Balthazar's death. What was more, he had shared with Balthazar the depth of his caring for Dean, and he had thought the other angle had understood. Now he saw that Balthazar had used it to justify his own deception and debauchery. Balthazar had betrayed him, and then saved him, and he wasn't sure what he was feeling about that.<p>

When it came down to a choice between Dean and Balthazar, it was Dean he sided with. It would always be Dean, all of this was for Dean. However, a debt was a debt. Cas couldn't bear to stay, couldn't bear to keep dealing with Dean's anger. He knew if he didn't leave, he would start to feel everything again, and that it would mean the end of his ability to save the world.

_Sacrifice, _he thought,_ the Winchester way._

* * *

><p>The Winchesters drove down the road in silence. Dean was certain something was really fucking wrong with everyone but him. It seemed like Cas had returned to the warrior of God he had been when Dean met him, and Sam… Dean had no fucking clue what was wrong with Sam, but the nasty suspicion chewed away at him that there was something not quite right with Sam, something cold, and dark, maybe not even Sam. He glanced over at his brother. Sam was paging through an old leather-bound book, oblivious to Dean's scrutiny. Dean sighed. <em> At least in my life, <em>he thought, _I can count on the big reveal happening sooner rather than later._

When he had seen Cas, he couldn't keep the joy out of his eyes, felt the familiar blend of love, faith and desire that came from seeing the angel. When Cas mentioned a bond, he got concerned instantly, guilty that he could love Lisa and love Cas, as if one precluded the other.

_I might have been a little harsh_, he thought ruefully, thinking of how demanding and defensive he'd gotten, sparking actual sarcasm from Cas. _Then again, he's not the same man I knew. Cas wouldn't hurt a kid like that, wouldn't be so cold, not after everything we went though. _ Maybe that was why he hadn't leapt to Cas's defense when the angels attacked. Maybe he felt a little betrayed by it all, by Cas being gone for so long when Dean needed him so much. _Not that I don't get how hard it is, the toll that fighting for your life takes on a guy, the shame. Didn't have to cut me like that, though, coulda asked. Fucking child, he never asks for help._ _I gotta believe that he'll always back me when it counts though, he's had faith in me forever, and he's earned my faith in him. Fuck. Without him, I'm lost. Without Sammy, without Lisa… I'm so fucking lost._

* * *

><p>Cas ignored Dean's prayers, the first few times. He couldn't bear to face him. He knew it was his fault that Sam was the way he was now, knew that it had to be Cas's fault that Dean was hunting again, that things with Lisa were messed up, that Sam was messed up. Not to mention that his last visit had been instantly tracked by Raphael's men. As much shame and guilt as lying to Dean caused him, Cas told himself that all of this, the pain he was causing Dean, the deals with demons, the lying, it was all to keep Dean safe.<p>

_Castiel? Hello?_ Cas heard his full name in Dean's prayers. He felt a twinge at the lack of his nickname. _Possible loose nuke down here._

Now he had to go to Dean. No excuse not to.

* * *

><p>Dean was so pissed at Cas, he almost discounted the angel's promise to look into the Sam thing. Almost. He just wanted so badly to believe in Cas. He maintained for a few more hours, until the fucking talk with Lisa and the horrible revelation from Sam. That was when Dean finally lost his fucking shit and beat Sam within an inch of his life.<p>

He stared down at the broken body of his brother, in shock, for several long, long minutes, before finally shaking himself free of the trance and picking up the mammoth body. It wasn't easy getting him to the hotel, but finally, Sam was secured, and Dean went into the other room, opened a bottle of whiskey, and tried desperately to decide what to do.

_There's no one to ask for help. Just… Cas. I gotta ask him. He's gotta come though for me, he will always…_ Dean drank directly from the bottle, and when he lowered it, he started to tear up.

"Cas! Cas. Feathery fucking ass, down here now. It's Sam. I need you. Please," Dean yelled. Sam lay limply in a chair in the other room. "Cas. Please. Something bad happened. I don't have anyone else to ask," Dean felt the slight depressurization that meant Cas was behind him and turned. "Cas. It's bad. It's so fucking bad… Can you keep Sam out while we talk? Unconscious?"

"Of course. What happened?" Castiel's eyes were wide with concern.

Dean felt a wave of relief at the concern. Finally, there was a glint of the Cas he had known, and then the sickening ebb of the wave came as the reason for Cas's concern resurfaced. Dean sat on the bed, rubbing his own eyes as tears welled up.

"It's all fucked, Cas, all of it. Sam's beat to shit, he's not even fucking Sam, I had to do it-" the words came faster and faster, bottled up inside of Dean for so long that now he had no choice but to let them all spill out. "I lost Ben and Lisa, I never, I never fucking deserved that life, I just made it horrible for them too, Cas, I'm so toxic, everything we touch goes to Hell, usually _literally_, we're always just that one fucking step away from Hell, and it was so hard without you and Sam and I just wanted to die so many times-" Dean was shaking uncontrollably now, sobbing.

Cas was across the room so fast it he might have teleported. He cradled Dean in his arms, rubbing Dean's shuddering shoulders, wanting to banish all the pain.

"And you _left_ me, Cas, you left me all alone for a _year-_" at that, Cas stiffened, and pulled away slightly.

"You left me first, Dean, and I came the first time you asked for me." Cas regarded Dean with sad, somber eyes, gently reminding him. "I am sorry, but we both knew that it was better to be apart, and no matter how you feel now, you deserved to be happy with Lisa, and your son. Nothing I could offer you would have compared to that. It was better for us. I couldn't be a part of that."

"Are you kidding? You stayed away because I was with Lis' romantically? Are you that jealous, that if you and I aren't fucking, you don't-"

"NO. It wasn't like that. That's not even what I meant. You wanted the apple pie life. You deserved it. I would have brought the wrath of Heaven down on you all, Dean. I need you to trust me, it was better that way. I am so sorry that it fell apart. I sincerely did not wish it to be so."

Dean was breathing more evenly now, the tears slowing. "I'm sorry, too. I guess… I'm just on the edge of a fucking breakdown, Cas, Sammy… he came back wrong. I've never been this desperate before. I don't know what to do."

"We will figure out what is wrong with Sam. I promise." Cas put his arm around Dean's shoulders again, and pulled him close. "I did not enjoy being apart from you, Dean. It would have been vastly preferable to be with you and Sam, instead of fighting my kin. My absence had nothing to do with sex. I wish to be in your life as much as I am able, in any capacity."

Dean twisted to look Cas in the eyes. He wanted to believe in Cas, believe in anything right now. "I know. I was just… Like I said. Edge of a breakdown."

Their mouths were inches away from each other now. Cas reached up and ran his finger tips along Dean's cheek. Dean closed his eyes and leaned slightly into the caress.

"I missed you, Cas," he murmured.

"I know. Dean, I… I love you. I promise, I will do anything in my power to help you and Sam," Cas let his thumb trail down to rest on Dean's bottom lip for a second before removing the caress. Dean opened his eyes. Cas was still inches from his face, and the hunter leaned over to close the space between them.

Dean didn't want to ever stop kissing Cas, didn't want to return to the world that existed outside of the soft lips and warm hands. He gasped as Cas slid his hand up Dean's chest, under his shit, and lay his hand on the scarified handprint. Dean felt a wave of pure, unadulterated love wash though his body, so much more intense than ever before.

"How-"

"God brought me back with more power than I ever had before. I can do some things I never-" Cas closed his eyes, and Dean could feel exactly how cas felt about him, the love, the trust, the absolute faith and caring. He felt Cas's desire to see Dean happy, and felt tears start again at the intensity. When the hand lifted away, Dean gasped a little, and opened his eyes to Cas, looking at him with eyes full of the emotions he'd just allowed Dean to feel.

"He also made me an amazing disco dancer." Cas deadpanned, and Dean choked on the laughter that bubbled out.

"For spending a year as a wavelength of celestial whatever, your sense of humor got way better."

"Seeing you makes it all come back." Cas said simply, and then he was kissing him again, and Dean didn't want to speak amymore.

They made love slowly, awkwardly, as if they might have forgotten how. Dean fumbled with Cas's trench coat and tie, felt odd removing his clothing for someone other than Lisa after so long, felt almost embarrassed to be naked in front of this creature that loved him so much and was yet so much more inhuman now. He hadn't wanted to meet Cas's eyes, but when he finally did, they were still full of that love and faith, now clouding with desire. Cas pushed him down, kissing him faster, harder, their hands relearning as they went along how to touch.

By the end, it turned out they still remembered how to comfort and please each other, and for a few minutes at least, they tried to push the horrible pain of their circumstances out of their minds.

After, they didn't lay together for long. There were too many other matters to attend to. But Dean finally felt something other than hurt again, and in his heart, he clung to that, even as he tried to steel himself for what was coming.

* * *

><p>Cas didn't want to leave the comforting, human smells of Dean, thought for a moment that that feeling he had in his presence might be what peace felt like. He wanted so badly to stay, but when Rachel called him, begging him to come, telling him they had been ambushed and Asasiel had been killed, Cas remembered why loving Dean was such a horrible, fatal, weakness. Dean didn't deem to care about his war, that even though Cas freely gave his help, Dean still demanded it, as if his brother was the only one that mattered.<p>

Suddenly, it wasn't as hard to leave.

* * *

><p>"Cas. I got information on the new King of Hell." Dean stood outside, in back of the motel he and Sam were bunking at after Crowley's big reveal.<p>

"The New King of Hell?" Cas was there instantly. Dean wondered if it was because of Sam and Crowley or because of the sex the other day.

"Crowley. He brought Sam back."

_Why would Crowley take credit for that?_ Cas wondered. _ To cover our plans? To further indebt me to him?_ Aloud, all he said was, "Interesting. I didn't think he had the power."

"Oh, he'll all juiced up. Steroids from Hell, and he's after Purgatory. He said he wants it for real estate reasons."

"Purgatory? I don't understand. Purgatory is what we call our soul reconditioning facilities." The lie rolled off his tongue, leaving a bitter aftertaste in Cas's heart.

"Purgatory is apparently what demons call their twisted form of Heaven. Some fucked up dimension with the soul of every nasty critter we ever deep fried. I didn't even know those fuckers had souls." Dean shook his head. "Crowley says he can get Sam's soul back, if we help him out."

Cas's eyes widened in surprise. "What did you say?"

"We don't have another choice right now. But I wanted to fill you in. Thank for coming. Thanks for trying to help us, man." Dean reached over, took Cas's hand. "I'm sorry things are rough in the attic, and I'm sorry I've been so pissed at you. You didn't deserve it."

Cas wanted to sink into the ground. How had it come about that not only Dean knew about the entire plan sans Cas's involvement, but also was apologizing to Cas for doubting him?

'I… I am sorry as well, Dean. I wish I could have done more. I wish I could do more." Cas didn't want to meet the apologetic, understanding green eyes.

"No, I know, you have your own problems. Just… um. Do you have to go back right away?" Dean took a step closer, pulling Cas towards him. Cas allowed him to take Cas's chin in his hand, pull the angel's mouth up to his own.

When they broke apart, Cas murmured, "I can stay a half hour, maybe. Not longer."

"Better make it count, then." Dean kissed him again, and Cas responded intensely. Cas pushed Dean back into the wall of the motel, lifting him up and grinding both his mouth and his hips into Dean. He buried his guilt in his desire to take solace from Dean, to try and recapture what they had lost a year ago.

Dean wrapped his legs around Cas's waist, cock instantly responding to Cas's sudden aggression. _Woah._ Dean thought, _He's fucking like he fights, out of fucking nowhere,_ and then Dean wasn't able to think anymore, because Cas had actually torn the waist of his jeans, and the angel's hand was on Dean's hard-on, finding the precum already oozing from it, and using it to slick the shaft. Dean fumbled at Cas's belt, and after a few misses, got his pants down enough to return the friction. Cas grunted as Dean's palm closed around his cock, and he sunk his teeth into Dean's neck. Dean arched against him, and there suddenly wasn't enough space for their hands on the other's cock. They abandoned the manual stimulation, and instead Cas thrust his erection against Dean's, using his hands to hold Dean's ass as Dean ground his dick back onto Cas's. It didn't take long for them to thrust their way into a climax, cum mingling between their suddenly sweating bodies.

"Fuck." Dean panted. "I fucking missed that. Missed you."

"I missed you, too, Dean," Cas said in a voice almost like a prayer, "I wish I could stay, but…" He pulled away, "The other day… Do not doubt that your needs are important to me, but my family is dying, too. I need you to understand that."

"I know, I do, I'm just... We're all under to much goddamn stress. Too much shit. Thanks for coming. Thanks for everything," Dean pressed a last kiss to the angel's mouth. "Watch out for Crowley. I don't know exactly what his game is, but it can't be good."

Cas could barely meet Dean's eyes, let alone stammer out a response. He squeezed Dean's hand lightly, and vanished.

* * *

><p>"I don't like this."<p>

"You don't like anything, angelcakes." Crowley bared his teeth at Cas in a mocking smile.

"Do not. Call me. That," Cas ground out around clenched teeth. "I appreciate that you did not reveal me to the Winchesters, but dangling the prospect of Sam's soul in front of them is cruel. You can't-"

"Darling, you know as well as I do that we don't stand a chance of finding the Alphas without the boys. What, are you going to put your civil war on pause and start finding me Alphas? You tried to give Dean his slice of cherry pie, and she couldn't take him anymore. It's hardly my fault he's hunting again, but since he is, we might as well take advantage." Crowley raised his eyebrows sagely.

"It's wrong. Deceitful." Cas shifted his weight uncomfortably.

"Then you go tell your little playmates the truth. See how Dean takes it when he finds out you're the one who yanked his brother out the Pit minus the dilithium crystals. What your extracurriculars are now." Crowley watched the angel seethe impotently. "Thought so. "

Weeks passed. The civil war raged on in heaven, and Cas had no time to spare on Earth. He always kept part of his mind devoted to Dean, however, always mindful of the hunter's safety and wellbeing. So when Dean was captured by the fairies, Castiel knew about it, and he knew that Oberon did not relinquish his captives easily. The faries were older and wilder than the angels, and Cas was scared for Dean. He flew to him as quickly as he could.

Dean was on his knees before the laughing King of the Fair Folk, obviously under the influence of a lust spell. Pants around his ankles, he moaned as Oberon slowly teased his tender opening with a plantlike-finger. Cas appeared behind the fairy, and pulled him away. His angelic powers were useless against fairies, but he could still exert physical force against them. He laid hands on Dean, and got them both out of there before any of the fairies could hit him with a similar spell.

Back on the mortal plane, he found an abandoned house. He put up wards against both fairy and angel, and then turned his attention to the vigorously masturbating man on the musty bed.

Dean looked up at him. "Cas, please. Help me," he pouted, licking his lips, and ceasing his self-ministrations, crawled across the bed to tug at Castiel's belt. Cas supposed he could try to undo the lust spell, but fairy magic was complicated, and it would be faster to allow it to run its course. Then Dean's mouth closed over the tip of his cock, which pretty much made up his mind. He tugged off his coat and tie, and sighed as Dean's tongue traced a delicate line down the underside of his shaft before Dean's mouth closed gently around Cas's balls.

"Oh, _fuck_," the angel moaned. He allowed Dean to continue until he almost couldn't bear the exquisite sensations, and then pushed the hunter down onto the bed. Dean mewed as they broke contact, then _hummed_ with pleasure as Castiel lightly caressed his straining cock. Cas dropped a fiery kiss onto his mouth, savoring the ecstatic response. Cas continued to kiss his way down along Dean's stomach, and Dean impatiently thrust his hips against Cas's shoulder. Cas laughed a little, to himself, amused by the openness and wantonness of the lust spell. He liked this Dean, full of sexual abandon and free from the pain of their lives.

"Cas, _please,_ I need you. Please." Castiel wasn't sure exactly what Dean was asking for, but he wanted to taste the other man's member, so he did. Remembering how Oberon had gently stroked along Dean's apparently sensitive anus, he ran his own thumb gently along the crack of Dean's ass. The response was extremely enthused. He slid his thumb gently across the opening, and Dean cried out, bucking into his mouth and hand.

"Cas, I need to… I need… Let me…" Dean was up and off the bed, pushing the angel down under him. "I need to be _in you,_" he whispered against Cas's neck, and plunged into Cas, gripping his hips so tightly that on a human, it would have left bruises. Cas was glad he was in full possession of his angelic healing powers, so it didn't hurt him at all. He loved it, fucking _loved_ the way he felt stretched by Dean's entry, loved how for a few seconds he forgot everything except Dean's cock spearing the sensitive bundle of nerves inside of Cas until they both spasmed and clutched each other. Dean didn't stop though, he stayed hard and kept thrusting into Cas, over and over, until they had cum again, and then again, the limits of human endurance cancelled out by magic. At last, the spell ran its course, and Dean withdrew suddenly, releasing Cas from his clutching hands.

Dean fell instantly asleep, and was out cold for about half an hour. He woke suddenly, with a yell and a jerk.

"Cas! What the… Oh fuck," he shuddered, and regarded the angel with scared, wide eyes, "Oberon…"

"Violated you. I am sorry. I didn't get there fast enough to prevent-"

"No… No, you didn't. There were… There was more. Before you found me. But you found me, and you got me out… Thanks. I… Fuck. Thanks for saving me, Cas." Dean was up and moving restlessly around the room. Cas wanted to pull him back down to the bed, cradle him, take away the tension and fear. "I have to go, I gotta go find Sammy. Uh. I probably won't mention this part to him. We gotta figure out what those things are. But yeah. Where are we?"

"Nearby the field they took you from. Are you sure you're okay, Dean?"

"Yeah. Fine. I have to-" Dean was shaking violently, and Cas could almost taste the fear and pain, and it was too much pain for Cas to deal with. He brushed two fingers over Dean's forehead, and Dean slumped bonelessly into Cas's arms.

Cas wiped his memory, and brought him back to the field where the faries had abducted him from. He intended to stay and help, but he heard the familiar buzz of Rachel, demanding his presence back in Heaven. He dropped a small false memory into Dean's consciousness, sighed, and blinked out of the mortal plane. All he could do was have faith that Dean would figure things out on his own.


	11. Will You Make It All A Little Less Cold?

**Chapter Eleven: Will You Make It All A Little Less Cold?**

Cas didn't have time to return to Dean for weeks. Raphael's supporters were insidious, and those who sided with Cas had to resort of guerrilla warfare, which in Heaven, meant hiding in various heavens, sabotaging Raphael's efforts to locate the nukes, constant skirmishes and running, and halting Raphael's efforts on Earth to locate the key to the Cage. Cas knew Raphael was close to discovering the back door to the Cage as well, and he need to find a way to collapse it, before Raphael figured it out. The power it would take to seal off the ass of Hell was immense, and Cas had already blew his load, so to speak, on the initial rebellion.

When Sam called him about the Arc of the Covenant, Cas was beyond hopeful. That would provide him enough power to collapse the back door and to secure the backing of a few hold out garrisons. Of course, it was a trick, and to add insult to injury, Sam threatened him as if he was withholding his help for fun, and not out of necessity.

_That__'__s __the __classic__ Winchester__ approach,__ isn__'__t__ it_, Cas mused, _demand__ help,__ and __if__ your__ needs__ are__ not __immediately __met, __threaten__ violence. __Lovely._ He told himself he helped because he still felt guilty for bringing Sam back wrong, and because he loved Dean, not because he feared they would discover his involvement with Crowley, and certainly not because he feared Sam Winchester.

The infernal demon girl was involved. There was no part of that that pleased Cas. He was fucking terrified of what the boys might discover if they dug too closely at Crowley's operations, and worse, Cas fucking hated the way his vessel responded to the demon's vessel.

The pornography had intrigued him. It was baffling that the humans would enjoy watching poorly patched together plots, nothing like the movies he watched with Dean. As he watched the pizza man slapping the ass of the babysitter, he felt that same physical response stirring in his pants. _Huh.__ Perhaps __that__ is __the __appeal_, he thought, and scowled at Dean's mockery of his pants-condition.

When he told Dean of his ambivalence about restoring Sam's soul, it wasn't that he didn't mean what he said, he couldn't even begin to imagine the state of the soul at this point, or the consequences of ramming it back into Sam, but he wasn't sure if it was Sam, Dean or himself he wanted to protect from that pain. The pain in his chest as he explained to Dean that he was terrified of what cramming Sam's soul back inside him would do was horrible enough without spilling that it was he, Castiel, who had fucked Sam up in the first place, and how terrified he was that it could get worse than it was already. If it were at all in Cas's power to fix Sam, he would have done so already- as much as his lack of soul made Sam a formidable hunter, Cas believed that the brothers had been stronger before Hell had broken them both, when they still believed in each other. But now, with the soul having spent a year in the cage, Cas knew it would be worse to force it back in Sam than for Sam to be soulless. Better that Dean have a broken Sam than no Sam at all.

Castiel had disliked the deception of "destroying" Crowley's bones but he'd had to lie to them every step of the way, anyways, so what was one more lie? Even as he told himself that he had to do these things, that Dean simply wouldn't understand, he knew deep down inside that he was ashamed, and that more than not understand, Dean would tell him that it was wrong to search for Purgatory. At least he had gotten them out of the demon's service. It was bad enough that he was in league with Crowley; he couldn't stand to see the brothers enslaved by him too.

* * *

><p>Castiel came back to Dean the next night, after the warehouse. He had been feeling restless ever since the kiss with the demon girl. She had kissed him, and the taste of her was like pure sin, like whiskey and cigar smoke, spicy and intoxicating. His body's response to her was so strong that he had pinned her to the wall like the movie, and didn't even notice as she took his sword. He wasn't sure why she awakened such urges in his vessel, and it disturbed him that he did not know.<p>

Sam and Dean had increasingly been sleeping in separate rooms, as Sam's new coldness made Dean extremely uncomfortable. Dean was alone, and drunk, which was how Cas wanted him, loose and willing, ready to repress his anger at Sam in fucking Cas senseless. He wanted to lose himself, lose his guilt and shame, in the pleasure of Dean's body. He wanted to do whatever Dean asked of him, to forget the greater deception that he lived these days.

Cas popped in behind Dean. He slid his arm around Dean's waist, and used his other hand to roughly fondle the hunter's firm ass.

"Hey." Dean rasped in his low, sexy voice. He was rarely surprised by Cas's appearances these days, almost as if he could feel the angel's coming. "Are you sure it's my ass you want to be grabbing? We could go out to another den of inequity." Castiel couldn't see Dean's face, so he was unsure if this was a serious offer or a joke.

"I don't wish to do that. I only want to do that with you," he mumbled into Dean's back, snuggling his face between Dean's shoulder blades.

"It sure didn't seem that way earlier. You and Meg seemed like you might have a profound bond." Dean turned, and now Cas could see the slight smile on Dean's face.

"The physical response my vessel had to hers had nothing to do with the bond I share with you," Cas's words were serious, but he felt a sense of relief that Dean wasn't upset with him. "Are you jealous?" He let one of his rare smiles crinkle the corners of his mouth.

"Maybe. Maybe you need to be punished," Dean pulled Cas close, kissing him lightly on the mouth, "Maybe I need to remind you whose fuck-toy you are."

"Oh, _yes,_" Cas breathed against Dean's mouth. Dean pulled away, sat on the edge of the bed. Cas moved to follow him.

"Not so fast. Take off your clothes for me. Slowly," Dean poured himself another glass of whiskey and watched as Cas let his coat slide to the floor. Next came the loosening of the tie, and it was followed by shirt and pants and finally the briefs. Dean smiled in anticipation, and stood, "Now, bend over, across the bed. You've been very naughty, haven't you?"

Cas bent over the mattress. Dean circled around behind him, and Cas could feel the hunter's satisfaction as he examined the angel's ass. "Yes," he said quietly.

"I can't hear you. Have you been naughty?"

"Yes, very. Please, punish me," Cas said in a louder voice.

Suddenly, a sharp pain and a cracking noise and Castiel felt Dean's hand smack across his ass.

"You've been sucking face with demon bitches, haven't you?" Another crack across his buttocks. Cas felt himself growing hard.

"Yes, oh, yes."

"Say you're sorry."

"I'm sorry." Another smack. Cas moaned.

"Say you're mine." Crack.

"I'm yours." Crack.

"That's right. Who's your daddy?" At that, Cas looked at Dean in bafflement. "Ha. Shit. Sorry. It's an expression." Dean laughed. "I didn't mean it." Cas raised an eyebrow, and then felt another smack across his buttocks. "Don't get distracted. Get on your knees." Cas obeyed, and Dean unzipped his pants. "Suck."

Cas closed his mouth around Dean's shaft happily. He could always feel Dean's pleasure emanating from his mind when Cas pleased him, almost couldn't tell it from his own after a certain point. If it wasn't for his angelic control, he thought, he could come just from Dean's joy.

After a time of moans and muttered swear words, Dean said, "All right, on the bed again. On your knees," he followed Castiel onto the bed, and knelt behind him, "I will tell you when you can come."

Dean pushed inside slowly, and pumped in and out slowly for what seemed to stretch into hours. As his pace quickened, Castiel cried out, and Dean reached around and stroked the angel's straining erection, at the same time slapping his ass again. A few more times, and they both came, sweaty and panting, drained and thrilled.

"So you get why the babysitter needed to be punished, now?" Dean smiled in the aftermath.

"Oh yes. I understand," Cas smiled back. They lay for a while, savoring a few hours of not having to fight for their lives. Finally, Dean spoke.

"I don't get why you wanna get with a demon chick, but it's the demon part I don't like, not the chick part. You gave me to Lis' without a second thought, I get that now. That thing from my ring. Agape." Dean kissed his neck softly.

"Yes, exactly. It's one of the most amazing things I have learned from you, Dean, that you can give boundlessly of love to others and never run out. I don't… I do not love the demon girl. My vessel is… aroused… by hers." Cas looked away, embarrassed, "I know it's wrong for an angel and demon… I do not understand it myself."

"Your vessel is attracted to Meg? Is Jimmy still kicking in there? Because that would be a little fucked up."

"No, whatever was Jimmy Novak died the first time I died. But this body is still a vessel, without my grace to fill it, it would die in a matter of minutes. It retains some of Jimmy, I suppose, in his cravings and physical responses, but his consciousness is long gone. "

"Well, that's reassuring. Didn't much care for the idea of Jimmy trapped inside your skull, hating the sodomy," Dean laid his head against Castiel's shoulder, and nipped lightly at the pale skin, "Hey, Cas?"

"Yes?"

"You always say you can't come to help us, or to visit me, but you still come. Why is that?"

"Do you have to ask?"

"I asked anyway."

"I meant what I said earlier. I sincerely wish I could spend all of my time here. The war… There is nothing about that which I desire. I never intended to become their Sheriff permanently. I imagined it would involve more of teaching the angels to think for themselves and less killing of my kin. I overestimated the new powers God gave me, also. I thought this would be over by now," Cas sighed deeply.

"Do you come even when it endangers you to do so?"

"It always endangers me to come. But if I physically cannot come, I do not. Otherwise, I will always come to you when I can, Dean. I believe that is the Winchester way, no?"

Dean chuckled a little at that. "I guess. You are an honorary Winchester."

"I am honored by that title." Cas smiled, and pulled Dean closer.

"'Cept that would make us brothers. I'm sure there's some freaky slash girl out there who would just love that idea."

"I think that we could be brothers in arms, instead of brothers in flesh., if that is less 'freaky' to you."

"Yeah. I like that. Brothers in arms," Dean's eyes sobered a little, and Cas knew he was thinking of his soulless flesh and blood brother. "Cas, Sam told me he doesn't want his soul back."

"You might do well to listen to him. I told you my feelings on the subject."

"Yeah. I know. But I can't… I can't keep going with Sam, like this, Cas, I can't. It's too much. He's not Sam, not all of him, anyways."

Cas shifted uncomfortably, feeling the familiar guilt bringing him back to reality. "I am sorry, Dean." The words felt hollow falling from his lips.

"So if Crowley can't restore Sam's soul, who could? Is there anyone you can think of powerful enough to stick it back in without killing him?"

"God. Obviously." Cas wasn't comfortable with this line of reasoning, but his guilt prompted him to be helpful to Dean.

"Besides God, I think we've proved how useless it is to ask for his help."

"Something as old and powerful as God, then… Death, maybe, or perhaps one of the pagans? Most of them, I think, would fail, but there might be one or two. An, or any one of the Anunnaki, for that matter, but I still do not believe it would be worth the risk. Regardless of their ability to shove it back in, I believe it would leave Sam a comatose husk, maybe even trapped in his own head, tortured for the rest of his miserable life." Cas looked down at the hazel-green eyes watching him intently. "Promise me you won't do anything stupid, Dean."

"I promise."

* * *

><p>Dean went and did something stupid. Cas was angry. He reprimanded Dean sharply for seeking out Death and forcing Sam's soul back in him, and left in a fit of anger, before he could do something he would truly regret.<p>

_Why __do __I__ always__ choose __not__ to__ read__ his __thoughts __when__ these__ things __happen?__ Do__ I__ want__ to__ trust__ him__ that__ badly?_ He was growing sick of Dean ignoring his counsel, always doing the insane thing. True, the insane thing usually turned out to be the right thing ultimately, but still.

_I__'__m__ an __angel, __damn__it,__ does __my__ millennia __of__ experience __count __for __nothing? __Is __it__ always __I__ who__ must__ trust__ Dean__?_ he thought angrily.

After some time to calm himself and think about his words, Cas realized he needed to go apologize to Dean for how he had chided him, or risk losing him. No one on Earth or in Heaven could hold a grudge like Dean Winchester. Everything Castiel did was for love of Dean, and everything Dean did was for love of Sam. He could hardly fault the hunter for wishing to save his brother. Also, after his talk with Sam earlier, the angel had a sneaking suspicion that Sam had not been entirely honest with Cas, and he knew Dean would be angry about that as well.

Cas had felt an overwhelming sense of relief when he saw Sam re-ensouled and awake, though. He looked good, better than Cas could have ever hoped he would. He felt his guilt lessen, and wanted to reach out and touch the younger Winchester with brotherly affection… That had been awkward.

_Dean__'__s __going __to __be __upset__ with__ me__ still_, he thought, _I__ need__ a__ way__ to __show __him __I__ regret__ my__ words. _He pondered for another minute, and then seized upon the perfect idea.

* * *

><p>Dean was working his way through a bottle of Wild Turkey at Bobby's, and barely moved when the angel popped in. As the scent of pie hit his nostrils though, his shoulders straightened a bit, and he glanced over at Cas. Castiel held a still slightly steaming pie in one hand and a tube of whipped cream in the other hand.<p>

"You brought me pie?" Dean's eyebrows rose as he tried to not smile, because dammit, he was still upset with Cas. Even though he understood why Cas had said and done what he had, Dean was not pleased. The fact that Dean's plan to protect Sam had instantly backfired did a lot to lessen his anger with Cas, though, not to mention the extremely unpleasant distraction of the new, exciting mother-of-all issue.

"Yes. I am sorry about how I spoke to you before. I know what you did was because you love Sam. I should not have been so harsh." The angel looked so repentant; Dean couldn't help but soften a little. This wasn't over, though.

"And you spilled the beans to Sam. There's a wall in his stupid, giant head, Cas, keeping all the things you told him out, for a reason."

Cas's face registered surprise, and then annoyance. "Then I am sorry for that as well. I didn't know. I thought after he might not have been entirely honest with me, but the wall… I pray that it holds."

Dean sighed. "Thanks. I know you meant well. You're so old and so young at the same time, Cas. It's hard to reconcile sometimes." Then he allowed himself a small smile. "You did bring me pie, though. That's a good way to my heart."

Cas smiled back. "It's apple. I believe you like apple pie?"

"Oh, baby, I _love_ all pie. But yeah. Apple is good." Dean set down his liquor. "I'm gonna go get some plates. And forks. And possibly milk."

When he returned, Cas was still standing and holding the pie. Dean laughed a bit to himself. _After __all__ of__ this, __he__ still__ doesn__'__t__ think__ to__ do __the __little__ things__ us__ humans __do._

"Sit," he gestured to the two arm chairs in the spare room that Dean liked to occupy when they crashed at Bobby's. He took the pie from Cas, and cut them both a slice. He doused his liberally with the cream, and Castiel's less so. Then, he handed the angel his plate. "Try it. You'll be instantly converted to the Holy Church of Pie."

'I do not believe there is such a church," Cas smiled a little, and then took a bite. His eyes closed in pleasure, and Dean laughed as the angel rapturously savored his first bite of pie. "That is… that is _marvelous_," he finally said.

Dean dug into his own slice, and both plates were cleaned in a matter of minutes. Then, Dean looked at the angel mischievously. "You know. There's another way I enjoy pie. I could show you."

Castiel regarded Dean with anticipation. Dean supposed Cas was starting to know exactly that that particular glint in Dean's eye meant.

"Yes, please, Dean. Show me how else you enjoy pie." Cas stood, removing his coat and tie.

"Haha, you're all Pavlov's dog now, Cas."

Cas ignored the reference, and removed his pants. Dean smiled devilishly.

"Awesome. Now, on the bed, pie-wench."

Cas obliged. Dean gently smeared a small amount of filling on Cas's lower lip. Then, he took the pouty lip into his own and sucked it clean. Cas groaned slightly into his mouth, and Dean felt the angel's hands wrap around his back. He let the kiss linger for a few seconds longer, sliding his tongue into Cas's mouth, tasting the pie and whipped cream, then pulled back. He scooped up more pie filling and dribbled it along Cas's neck. The angel squirmed a little.

"Hold still, it's just pie." Dean lowered his mouth to the pie smeared skin, and slowly licked it up. Cas moaned as Dean's tongue brushed against the sensitive skin.

"Oh yeah. Now that's how you eat pie." Dean took another fingerful of filling and trailed it across Cas's chest. He added a dollop of whipped cream for good measure, and proceeded to lick it off Castiel's nipples.

Cas gasped, and when Dean was finished cleaning his torso, he said, "I think I understand." Cas took his own bit of pie filling, and wiped it along Dean's stomach. He kissed it away, licking his lips when he was done.

"That is delicious." He took more, and trailed along Dean's hipbone. This time, he sucked it away, leaving a tiny lovebite in its place. It was Dean's turn to moan, and Cas smiled. He fondled Dean's balls gently, and looking up at Dean with that angelic innocence, took Dean's cock into his mouth. Dean rocked into him.

"You're so fucking good at that," he gasped, and allowed the angel to suck and lick him to the brink of climax.

_Heh, __or __pie-max,_ he giggled inside his head, and then Cas's mouth closed around his balls, sucking with the exact right amount of pressure, and he couldn't stand the exquisite torture another second. He pulled Cas's head up, laid a few more heated kisses on the swollen lips, tasting pie, pre-come and angel saliva.

"I need you. I need to be in you, now," he said, flipping Cas to rest underneath him.

_Best.__ Pie.__ Ever._ Dean thought.

* * *

><p>Castiel didn't have much time to see Dean or help the brothers, but he always knew what they were up to. He knew the wall was unstable. He knew they had worked a few almost normal cases, he knew that Dean had seen Lisa, and that it hadn't been at all pleasant. He visited Dean in his dreams after that, and they talked about silly, foolish distractions and made love. He could sense that Dean missed Ben and Lisa intensely, and that he was terrified for Sam. All Dean chose to tell him, though, was that he was pissed that the Impala had gotten possessed, and that all the brothers did was make messy situations worse and bring disaster down around them.<p>

Cas cared about Dean, loved him, there was no doubt in his mind that this was true, but he knew also that this was a weakness Raphael would exploit given the chance. It bothered Castiel increasingly that that he was distracted by thoughts of Dean, began to eat away at his thoughts that the level of care he bestowed on the Winchesters could prove to be his undoing.

It was partly out of this increasingly desperate need to prove to himself that Dean didn't control his every action and partly out of faith that Sam and Dean could take care of themselves that he went along with Balthazar's plan to send the boys to another universe. Of course he never intended to leave them there, but he didn't have time to explain his every decision and motivation to Dean, who always assumed that the mighty Dean Winchester was in charge of everything and always knew best. It was angering him increasingly that Dean and Sam refused to see how bad things were getting. It never occurred to him that because of his deception, he never shared with them the full extent of his battle; it only angered him that they could not simply trust in him.

Cas still felt slightly guilty for using Sam and Dean to achieve his own goals, but he told himself it wasn't that different than how they used him in their war against his brothers. He told himself that they would understand why he took the measures he had when the war was over. He reminded himself that they didn't know what it was like to kill countless members of your own family, to become almost numb to fratricide.

Regardless, at the end of each conversation with Crowley, at the end of each victorious battle, he still felt that sick sense of shame eating away at his Grace. He kept trying to convince himself that he was righteous, that he was _right_ to do as he was doing, that acquiring the weapons was necessary.

Oh, the weapons! They changed the whole game for Castiel. Of course the Arc of the Covenant and Gabriel's Horn, but also seven ram's horn trumpets with the power to level a city, Sampson's Jaws, which had the ability to kill a thousand men at a time, the Dagger of Ehud, and a number of other rarities, each formidable in their own right. Some, like the Arc, proved to be contained with some sort of angelic redundancy system that the angels couldn't break. Cas and Balthazar determined that God must have put safe guards in place before his departure, to prevent the most powerful from being used in exactly this sort of situation.

The most surprising and powerful discovery was one even the angels had not known existed, and it was not under God's lockdown. They had understood, as the humans believed, that the Armor of God and the Sword of the Spirit were metaphorical representations of faith. Quite by accident, as Castiel was inventorying his new Armory, he happened upon a small box, one that looked quite human and out of place with the nukes of Heaven. Inside, he found a solid gold amulet, almost identical to the bronze one he had borrowed from Dean. However, when he place this amulet around his neck, he was engulfed in blinding white hot light, and when it faded, he found himself quite literally clothed in the Armor of God, complete with the Shield of Faith and the Sword of the Spirit. He marveled at this extremely powerful advantage this gave him over the forces of Raphael. He was unsure as to exactly what they would do in battle, so he removed the amulet and placed it in his trench coat pocket. He would examine their effects more closely later, test them in battle when time allowed.

* * *

><p>"Cassy, I have a plan." Balthazar found him after a war council, "But I wanted to tell you in private, because it's not technically 'kosher'." He wiggled his fingers in air quotes.<p>

"Tell me," Cas said.

"Well, you need power to close off the back door into Hell, and we haven't figured out how to use the weapons to fuel the war machine, but there's another place we could get the human souls we need. As a bonus, we could do the whole world and your boyfriend some huge favors at the same time."

"How so?"

"There was an ocean liner, called the Titantic, and it sunk, and then an atrocious, appalling, abomination of a film was made about it. I want that film to never, ever happen."

"Changing the past is a line that hasn't been crossed yet." Cas didn't say no, but he wasn't sure if he was willing to go that far just yet, amd certainly not simply on Balthazar's say so.

"I checked out some details, because I knew you'd be all 'oh no, crossing lines, wahh, changing history'. All sorts of little things would change, but not the big things." Balthazar looked entirely too pleased with himself, as if he had a trump card he wasn't playing.

"What sorts of little things?"

"Oh, nothing important. The cars people drive, the houses they build, the color they dye their poodles, things like that… And, of course, those two women that died last year in Carthage, because of your darlings? They live."

Cas felt his breath hitch for a moment. "Ellen and Jo?"

"Oh, yes. There's this whole thing with the cars. They drove a little compact number instead, got a flat tire, and arrived in Carthage after the boys were already trapped by hellhounds. Sam and Dean blew up the hardware shop without any non-canine casualties. Bobby and Ellen married shortly thereafter. It was very romantic. Jo moves to sunny California, meets a nice young hunter. It's all very storybook, except for, you know, all the major, world ending drama." Balthazar waved his arms about to illustrate his point, "And Celine Dion will be an unknown lounge singer. A _lounge_ singer."

"I don't know who that is," he shook his head sharply as Balthazar opened his mouth to explain, "Nor do I care. How many souls?"

"Fifty _thousand_."

"Do it."

* * *

><p>Cas was there, invisible, in the kitchen, as Ellen unpacked her groceries and lovingly chided Bobby.<p>

"Go wash up, I'll fix you something," she said, the depth of her caring evident in her voice.

"Anyone ever tell you you're a pain in the ass?" Bobby grumbled.

"That's why you married me," she smiled, and Cas felt warmth leak from his eyes. _The__ pure, __beautiful__ simplicity __of__ their__ affection __is__ the__ reason,_ he thought, _to __protect__ that__ is__ why__ we__ fight._

He wanted that for himself, for Dean. It was easy to imagine them in a similar conversation, sarcastic jibes covering deep affection, domesticity running rampant.

It took Sam and Dean almost no time to break it all down. People started dying, and it was instantly traced back to Balthazar, then Atropos, and then of course, back to Cas who had to save them again, and it all fell part, the entire plan and the world it created.

He regretted angering Atropos, but she too, just didn't understand. He tried desperately to make her understand, to think of another way, but he couldn't lose Dean. That was not an opition.

He was tired of losing allies, and Atropos was no exception. They had been on good terms, before the Apocalypse, but she, like so many others, refused to see that free will was better for everything than destiny.

Castiel would make them see, if they wouldn't on their own. After all, didn't he have the Armor of God? Wasn't he the one chosen by God himself?


	12. Love Gets Slippery When It's Wet

_Author's Note: This chapter is fairly upbeat, because I feel like in context of the story I've told, Dean and Cas have a much more established reason for Cas to send Dean back to the Wild West, no questions asked. This chapter also has the much feared/anticipated wing!kink, just because I love the idea of Castiel's wings. It's harder and harder for me to write, because I started this fic before watching season 6, and I had no idea how much I would dislike the arc of season 6. It's so incredibly depressing to watch Cas and Dean grow apart. I wanted to create reasons for Cas's self righteousness, justify why he would make some of the choices he made, and do some things that cast Dean in a more sympathetic light. I don't know how well I've succeeded- a lot of this is based on the idea that Dean is an incredibly repressed person, and his relationship with Sam has gotten so strained that he can't trust in him the way he used to, but with Cas, there's just that blind faith that we see in "The Man Who Would Be King" that Cas will always come through for him- the faith he used to have in Sam._**  
><strong>

**Chapter Twelve: Love Gets Slippery When It's Wet**

Castiel was happy to send Sam and Dean back into the past in search of phoenix ashes. He knew how much it would mean to Dean to experience the Wild West. He wanted that happiness for Dean, wished he could always make Dean that excited, always see that joy in his eyes. Also, he wanted the Mother of All killed as badly as the boys- she would stop him from tapping the resources of Purgatory, if she could. Crowley felt differently, of course, but Cas's patience with the demon was growing thin. He planned to double-cross the snarky bastard as soon as he had the means to open the door to Purgatory.

He killed Rachel. His sister, his lieutenant, the voice of temperance and confidence in his warped reality. If he had had time to put on the amulet, summon the Armor, maybe he could have overpowered her without destroying her, maybe she could have been convinced.

He had had to kill her, though. He did it reflexively, without a thought, and it wasn't until he stood over her corpse that he felt sickening regret. But there wasn't time for that, not even time to mourn, because of course the Winchester's needed his help, just like always, and as wounded as he was, he had to go to them.

* * *

><p>Dean had had a good day. He pushed the newly present doubts that he was too needy and petty concerning Cas away, and lost himself in the glow of victory and the thrill of having actually been in the Wild West. He downed another shot of whiskey, and turned to the still-recuperating angel that was brooding on the couch. He had put in Blazing Saddles, excited to watch it with Cas and find another slice of peace in the middle of their latest Apocalypse, but the angel was in a serious funk. He was not even amused when Dean placed his cowboy hat atop his head, and wiggled his hips suggestively.<p>

"Shower?" Dean winked. "I reckon I'll let you wrestle my trouser snake. Maybe show you my ass-less chaps."

"I do not require cleaning." Castiel said gloomily. "I am waiting until I am healed enough to return to Heaven."

"How bad is it?" Dean moved to sit beside the angel currently known as Grumpy McMopington. "Can I help?"

"No, but thank you. Touching Bobby's soul healed most of the damage. I am waiting for my full powers to return, in case of ambush when I return."

"Bobby said you had to touch it gingerly or he might explode," Dean snickered.

"Yes."

"I bet you touched it gingerly."

"You're making a penis joke."

"Yes, yes I am," Dean grinned.

Cas was silent, continuing to brood.

"What happened, Cas?" Dean slid his hand under Cas's trench coat and pulled it off. The angel didn't resist, but he wasn't exactly helpful either. Dean put his arm around Cas's shoulders, but the angel didn't relax against him, just continued to sit there, immobile.

"I was betrayed. By someone I- by Rachel. I… I was injured. She is dead."

"Cas, I'm sorry, man." Dean hadn't really liked her, but clearly Cas was deeply affected by her betrayal. Suddenly, it hit Dean how ungrateful and callous he'd been in light of the shit Cas had been going through. "Really sorry. I… I guess I didn't thank you for sending us back. It really took a lot out of you, and I shoulda thanked you before, should asked if you were okay. So, uh, thanks. I'm sorry I was an ass. I'm glad you're okay."

They sat a while in silence, and Cas eventually sighed, and laid his head against Dean's shoulder.

"This… These last few years have been stressful." Cas finally said, and Dean couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah. Stressful's a word you could use, you know, if you were really underrating the situation."

Cas smiled a little at that, too.

"Hey, come on, baby. Come upstairs with me. I have an idea." Cas allowed Dean to pull him up and led him upstairs. Dean noticed that Cas stopped to grab his trench coat, and carried it carefully with them into the bathroom. He wasn't about to question the angel's sudden attachment to the garment. "Have you ever taken a shower?"

"I do not require cleaning, I told you that."

"Cleaning you outside is not the point. It feels good. It's fun to shower with someone hot, wet and naked." Dean looped his arm's around Cas's waist, and laid a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. Cas blinked. "We need to get your mind off of things. Just chill out with me, here, tonight, okay? Go back to your war in the morning, but just try and forget for now."

"It is impossible to forget." Cas muttered pessimistically, but at the earnestness in Dean's worried eyes, he wavered. "All right. We can shower."

Dean smiled. He turned on the hot water, and then started to loosen Cas's tie. He pulled the knot off, and let it drop to the floor. Pulling the collar away from Cas's neck, he laid a light kiss on his clavicle. Next came a sweet row of kisses following each shirt button. Then, kisses on each magnificent hipbone after the belt and pants were off. After he completely undressed the angel, he shed his own garments quickly, and was pleased to see the gloom in Cas's eyes replaced by arousal and curiosity. He kissed Cas again, and let his hand brush against Cas's semi-erect cock. He took Cas's hand and led him into the steaming shower. Cas flinched a little at the heat, but as his slick body slid against Dean's in the tiny stall, he became completely aroused, and Dean gasped as he felt the angel's hardness pressing against his own.

"See? Hot water, hot guy… What's not to like?" He grabbed the soap and lathered up his hands. He ran his slick hands down Cas's chest, pausing to cheekily tweak one nipple, which earned him a sharp intake of breath and a smile from Cas. Creating more lather, he slid his hand down and around Castiel's shaft, and stroked one hand up and down and used the other to delicately massage his balls. Cas leaned into Dean, burying his face in the wet neck, and running his hands along Dean's torso. Dean quickened his pace, and suddenly Cas kissed him hard on the mouth, claiming Dean's lips with his teeth, pressing him back roughly against the wall of the shower. Without the space between their bodies, Dean had to move his hand but with the water and soap, he felt Castiel's cock slide against his own, and let out a moan of his own. Cas thrust his tongue into Dean's mouth, capturing his tongue and at the same time, rocking his pelvis into Dean's. The water fell on their intertwined bodies, prickling their skin, droplets running down their chests as they moved apart, and disappearing when they came back together. After a few minutes of this, Dean was shaking and almost overwhelmed by Cas's need. Cas had never been this hungry, this desperate, not even the night he lost faith in his Father. This was darker, more controlling than the angel had ever been. Dean was surprised to find that he liked it, _loved_ it, the intensity of Cas's desire for him, the way Cas lifted him up slightly, and slide one hand around to cup Dean's ass, pulling him closer, his fingers lightly brushing against Dean's opening, and then it was too much, and he came, Cas moment later. Dean was overcome with the desire to cry or laugh or something other than gasp for breath. As Cas gently set him down, his knees felt weak, and if it wasn't for the wall, he thought maybe he would have fallen.

"Woah. Wow. Okay. You… That…"

"I know." Cas looked at him, the blue eyes almost black with passion. They stood in the water, panting, and slowly regaining their composure. Then Cas bent over to pick up the soap, and Dean cracked up. Cas raised a questioning eyebrow, and Dean shook his head. No point explaining prison sex to an Angel of the Lord. Cas let it go, and lathered the soap between his hands. He rubbed it against his own stomach and then Dean's.

"Now, I require cleaning," he smiled at Dean.

"Turn around; I'll wash your back." Dean smiled in return, and soaped up his own hands. Cas obliged, and he rubbed them across the thin shoulders, and the lightly across the feathered wing-scars. As he brushed over them, Cas leaned back into his caress and gasped quietly. This aroused Dean's curiosity.

"Can I ask you something about angels? I've been wondering about it since you faced off with Raphael." He let one hand slide lower, massaging the soap into the small of Cas's back.

"Anything." Cas whined a little as Dean let his other hand trace the wing marks, leaning into the hand like a happy cat.

"Your wings. Well, all angels' wings. Do you have them? I mean, Raphael had those lightening wings, and Zack left wing marks on the floor when I killed him. Are yours made out of shadow? Are all angels' wings different? Where are they most of the time?" He slid his other back up, and was interested to note that as he traced a finger along the scars again, Cas reacted by arching against him again, and whimpering.

"That's- _ooooh_- several questions."

"Pfft. Answer them anyways." He let his hands drop.

Cas turned around. "I will wash your back, if you'd like."

Dean turned around, "I'd like, but you're avoiding the question. Wings. Tell me. Be glad I'm asking that and not the hard questions."

Castiel sighed. "I have wings. They are not made of shadow. What you saw was literally their shadow. We can manifest them to various degrees as we wish. Usually, we keep them intangible and invisible when inhabiting our vessels, as they are merely shadows themselves, of our true forms, and tend to attract attention. As to types, Archangels… they have different wings, depending on the angel. Some types of angels do not have wings. Thrones, for example, are wheels within wheels, covered in eyes. Some angels, like Zachariah, have six wings. He was a Seraph. The Cherubim, like the cupid we encountered, have four wings. They are the lowest in ranking."

"I can see why." Dean shuddered at the memory of the cupid's embrace.

"Indeed. "

"How about halos, do you have a halo?" Dean turned around again, and once again looped his arms around Cas's waist. The water was beginning to cool, so he turned it off, and led the angel out of the shower.

"The Dominions and the Principalities do, of a sort. Most of us do not."

"What was Anna? And Uriel? What's Balthazar?" Dean picked up a towel, handed it to Cas, then picked up another to show the Angel the intended use.

"Balthazar was a foot solider, now he's a Power," Cas mimicked his actions, and said, "Haniel was the Archangel of love and harmony. Of human sexuality."

"Oh, that makes sense. That's fitting." Dean was pleased by that.

"She was a joy. Always pleasant to be around, spirited. I served under her for a very long time, and she was…" Cas looked sad again, for a moment, then thoughtful. "Although, you realize, in our true forms, we are genderless. All male or female pronouns are simply a result of which human was writing the description of us at that particular time."

"So I can feel better, cuz you're not really a dude?"

"Yes. Haniel, though… I regret her passing. I will never…" Cas looked at himself in the mirror for a minute, silent, then turned away, copying Dean's towel-around the waist. He picked up his trench coat and assorted clothing, and held them, looking at the coat contemplatively. Then, "Uriel was an Archangel. A Seraph, actually- all Seraphs are Archangels, but not all Archangels are Seraphs. He was one of the four who have seen God. He checked the doors of the Jews for lamb's blood, and spoke to Noah about the flood. But at some point, after God became less wrathful and the New Order came about, Uriel had some sort of… disagreement… with God. I do not know what the exact nature of their conflict was, but ultimately, Uriel repented and was demoted to cherub, rather than being forced to fall. When you encountered him, he was climbing back up in the ranks. I now suspect that he was in league with Lucifer all along, and merely played the role of the angel of repentance." Castiel looked like he was heading towards gloom again, so Dean tried to steer the conversation back towards Cas.

"Huh. What about you? You said you're a Power? Before, you said you were a warrior of God that governed the distribution of power between humans." Dean led Cas next into his makeshift bedroom, and they crawled into bed together, still naked.

Cas allowed Dean to wrap his arms around Cas's shoulders, and once again rested his head against Dean's shoulder. "Yes. A warrior, created to be completely devout to God." His lips twisted in a slightly bitter smile. "We were created almost solely to protect the world from demons. To lead humans to the true path to God. But really, Dean, it is all so much more complex than I can explain to you. Angels are demoted or promoted, changed at the whims of God or since his departure, changed by the Seraphim. There are books, but they're just words, they aren't entirely accurate, just humans interpretations of things they thought they understood .I suppose the closest you could get, if you wanted to research it, would be the Book of Enoch, and possibly De Coelesti Hierarchia."

"Woah, woah, hold up there, sparky. Let's not start throwing the r-word around. Why read a book, when I have my own angel to teach me all about it?" Dean smiled.

Castiel frowned again, slightly. "I am yours, Dean, but I am not your angel. What I give to you, that is what is mine to give. But do not assume I am a pet angel, at your beck and call."

"When we're alone like this, you are at my beck and call." Dean smirked playfully, disliking the tone of reproach and authority in Cas's voice. He nipped lightly at Cas's neck. Cas closed his eyes, sighing. Dean kissed where he had bitten, and then asked, "Can I see them? Please?"

"My wings?"

"Please?" Dean opened his eyes as wide as they'd go, making his most pleading expression. Cas laughed, as Dean hoped he would, and acquiesced.

"We'll have to go outside. There isn't room in here."

They pulled on pants, and snuck down the stairs, being as quiet as possible. They stood in the junkyard, a few feet apart, and their eyes met. Cas looked nervous, more nervous than Dean had ever seen.

"Hey, if it's dangerous or uncomfortable for you, you don't-"

"No, it's not either. We are hidden from angels here, at the moment, and it is actually more comfortable to display my wings than conceal them, it's just… I have never shown a human my wings."

"Well, you've done a lot of nevers with me, Cas. A lot of firsts. " Dean reached over, and ran his hand along Cas's cheek. "We've been through Hell together, literally. You don't have to be nervous about me, ever. I think we've gotten to a pretty honest, trusting place in our relationship."

"Do you consider it that? A relationship?" Cas's expression was now unreadable. Dean considered his answer carefully. He thought about the vast expanse of what they had been to each other, the emotions the angel provoked in him, the exact nature of what they were to each other.

"Like I said before. Brothers in arms. Honorary Winchester. Cas… you know what our lives are like. Either one of us could die at any moment. But no matter what happens to us, happened to us… No one in my life has ever done for me what you've done for me. Saved my life. Been there for me without question. Forgiven my sins. Loved me… Don't get me wrong, I love Lisa and Ben, you know I do, but they could never survive the life I live. But you gave me up to them, anyway, because you thought I could be happier with them than you. If I was with them, they would die. You hold your own. You fit into my life and you… We…" Dean struggled to say the words _I__ think __we__'__re __soul__mates, __I __want__ to __spend__ the __rest__ of__ my__ short, __brutal__ life__ with__ you_, _I__ more __than __love__ you, __I__ need __you, __I__ worship__ you,__ I __couldn__'__t__ go __on__ without __you__… _then resorted to the practically trademarked humor-in-self-defense, "It doesn't hurt that you're the best head I've ever gotten. Heavenly, actually."

Castiel cocked his head to the side, considering Dean's impromptu speech. _Did __I__ say __what__ he__ wanted __to __hear?_ Dean wondered, _Did__ I__ say __what __I__ should__ have __said? __No.__ Stop__ being__ chicken shit.__ Man__ up.__ Tell__ him __before__ it__'__s __too__ late._

But he couldn't. Instead, he went with the safe, "I love you, Cas," and kissed the angel.

"As I love you." Cas inclined his head, and stepped back. There was a shimmering in the air surrounding him, and then, to Dean's amazement, his wings appeared. They weren't white- Dean had been expecting either white or black, but they were blue. They were long and pointed, like a falcon, the flight feathers a deep, dark midnight blue black, lightening to a royal blue as they bled into the contour feathers. Dean gasped in awe. He was unable to move or speak for several minutes, gazing at the beautiful angel in front of him. Cas stood in the moonlight, wings spread, but this was entirely different than their first encounter. Instead of righteous and terrifying, he looked ancient and innocent at the same time, primeval. Finally, it was Cas who broke the spell. He folded his wings against his back and Dean moved forward instantly.

"Don't- don't put them away. Can… Could I touch them?"

Cas nodded. Dean moved behind Cas, and the angel spread his wings once again. Dean placed a hesitant hand out, and brushed one of the largest flight feathers. It was soft but firm and Dean felt a slight tingle go up his arm as he stroked it. Emboldened by its tangibility, he ran his hand along the top of the wing, feeling the bone underneath, covered in the royal blue contour feathers. Castiel sucked in his breath sharply, as he had in the shower. Dean moved his hand to the spot where the wings emerged from Castiel's back, and saw that under the contour feathers, there was a light layer of downy feathers, the same shade as Cas's eyes when he was happy. He traced a line down the impossibly soft base, and Cas let out a moan.

"Is that… Do you like that?" Dean asked.

"_Yes._" The angel said emphatically. "I didn't know it would feel like that. No one's ever touched my wings."

"Never? Not even other angels?"

"Never. We are not physically affectionate the way humans are, and our forms are too diverse, in any case. " Cas shrugged, the wings shifting under Dean's fingers.

"How are you affectionate, then? How do you 'cloud seed'?"

"Huh. We don't 'cloud seed', we exchange intense ocular expressions."

"You have eye sex." Dean thought back to the way Cas's gaze cut through him so many times.

"That is the simplest way to describe it, yes."

"That kinda casts a new light on the way you look at me."

"As you said, you are the first to do many things with me." Cas shifted, blushed a little. Dean found it enchanting. How could this amazing creature be embarrassed by anything? By him? He stroked his hand through the downy feathers, and Cas shuddered, and pushed back against Dean's hand. Dean moved closer, stroking the base of his wings with one hand, kissing between them, being extremely gentle, and with his other hand, he reached around the angel's hip and wrapped his fist around Cas's very erect cock.

"_Dean,__ oh,__ Dean,__ oh__ fuck, __oh__ yes__…__._" Cas moaned, managing to somehow strain both forward into Dean's hand and backwards against his mouth. He fell to his knees, Dean moving along with him, still caressing both the wings and the cock. Castiel fluttered his wings, extending and folding them as he lost control with more abandon than Dean had ever seen, even more so than earlier in the shower.

"Don't get lost yet, baby," Dean whispered, slowing the pace of his hand and lightening his caresses. Castiel was practically sobbing, straining in too many directions at once. Dean moved his hand from the throbbing member to Castiel's sensitive opening, finding the passage ready for him. Without further hesitation, he slipped inside, and placed both hands around the base of Castiel's wings, massaging them. Cas arched back against him, letting out animalistic cries, and flapped his wings. Dean felt the muscles around his own cock contract for what seemed like forever, and then it was too much for him, and they were lost together. Castiel seemed unable to control his wings, he actually lifted them both up a few feet off the ground as they came, panting. Then, they collapsed onto the ground, barely able to move for several very long minutes. Finally, Cas twitched, and folded his wings against his body. Dean staggered to his feet, and helped the angel up.

"You're incredible." Dean smiled down at him, "You're amazing. I…" He didn't have words for what Cas was. He understood, finally, how miraculous it was that Cas loved him. Cas buried his head in the crook of Dean's neck, eyes wet, body covered in sweat and dirt.

"So are you," he whispered into Dean's neck. "I love you, I love you, I love you…"

* * *

><p>Castiel finally popped himself and Dean upstairs and clean. He was pleased to note that he was fully recovered, much faster than he had thought he would, but after the experience he had just shared with Dean, he couldn't bring himself to go. Every fiber of his being hummed with pleasure, and it would have been a moment of perfect happiness, except for the little voice inside of him that screamed to come clean with Dean, that nasty little conscience that thought he was doing the wrong thing in working with Crowley and lying to Dean. He pushed those doubt away, silenced the voice.<p>

"How do you do this, Dean? Find happiness in the world when it's burning down around us?"

"I learned that you have to, or you go insane." Dean was half asleep, happily playing the role of big spoon, face buried between Cas's shoulder blades, hand absently tracing Cas's hip. "You brought me that, the peace, by being there when I was at my most desperate and worst. I just wish I had had this mindset all along. I think it's really all because of you. I think sometimes we're soul mates. You saved me so many times…." Dean was mumbling, but Cas could make out every single quiet, drowsy word, "I love you so much…I'd spend the rest of my life by your side in a moment. Mmm, love." Dean sighed in contentment, and let out a snore. Cas realized his human had fallen asleep. Cas closed his eyes, and tried to freeze the perfection of this moment in his mind forever.

* * *

><p>When Dean woke up, Cas was gone. For some reason, this made Dean extremely irate. He wasn't sure exactly why it made him so grumpy that the angel had left- after all, this was status quo in their relationship, but he had felt like things had changed between them last night. He tried to raise Cas on prayer-radio, but there was no answer.<p>

_Of__ course__ he's__ gone.__ He's__ a__ fucking __angel.__ Feelings __will__ never__ matter__ to__ him,__ no__ matter__ how__ much__ he __feels __responsible __for__ me__ and __Sam,__ he's__ never __really __gonna __love__ me. _Dean blinked back the unexpected tears that burned in his eyes suddenly, started his day with his breakfast of champions. He slammed several shots of whiskey, and tried to move on with his life.

_Whatever,_ he thought bitterly,_ I__ guess __it__ didn__'__t__ mean__ as__ much__ to __him __as__ I__ thought__ it__ did.__ Fucking__ whatever._


	13. Nobody's Fault But Mine

_Author's Note: This chapter has non-consent in it. I feel that as Cas gets closer and closer to Godstiel, he would lose the sweetness and become more controlling. I hate that I can't just write a happy ending for this story. Check out my other fics for happily-ever-afters, though, because that's really what I like to write._**  
><strong>

**Chapter Thirteen: Nobody's Fault But Mine**

Castiel hadn't wanted to leave Dean, but Crowley was paging him with increasing urgency. As dawn broke, Cas kissed the still sleeping Dean reverently on the forehead, brushed his fingertips lightly against his lips and blinked to Crowley's laboratory.

"Finally. Could you have taken any fucking longer to manifest your flamingly lazy arse? I have a lead on the monster that got in from Purgatory. Not the bitch with the virgin/whore complex. She's still hitch-hiking about, doing her little experiments. This is about the other one, the one who snuck in years and years ago. Our project is being… resistant. I can't seem to push its buttons in the right order. Care to give it a whirl?"

"What is your lead?" Cas asked wearily. Crowley had gotten him to try his hand at torture a few times before this, when the subjects they were dealing with were so vile and demonic that torture from another Demon caused more pleasure than pain. Crowley had discovered that with such beings, the touch of an angel was much, much more painful.

"A Daevas. Or possibly, a Dew. I'm never sure with them which is which." Cas shuddered. Either way, he hated dealing with the Zoroastrian demons. Crowley led the way to the torture chamber. Cas hated the stench of demon fear, and wrinkled his nose. The Dew was chained to Crowley's latest acquisition, an impossibly sterile doctor's table. It was made of pure silver, and inscribed in Enochian blessings. It was incredibly painful to evilest of demons.

This particular Dew was in the form of a Middle Eastern woman. She was beautiful, but covered in burns and peeling flesh, and her eyes held a glint of pure evil. Her teeth were bared in a horrible grin as she arched as much of her body away from the table as possible. Without hesitation, Cas rolled up his sleeve and plunged his arm into her chest. Wrapping his hand around her heart, he twisted.

"Where is it? Tell us."

"Go _fuck_ yourself, angel," she spat at him. "Az obeys no one but the Angra Mainyu. Nothing you do will work on me."

"Are you sure?" Cas raised an eyebrow, leaned in close to the demon's ear. "I'll bring you to Heaven with me. We'll give you a holy colonic. See how pliant you are after the host of heaven scrub out your asshole, bitch." He withdrew his hand, and waved it. She was instantly healed, not only of her wounds, but Castiel sanitized her at the same time. Every microbe of dirt and infection vanished, and she screamed in pain.

"Fuck you! Fuck you, you angel faggot! Do you think I can't smell the stick of sin on you! How fucking dare you threaten Az with purity when you are _tainted_!" She writhed on the table, her shrieks becoming incoherent.

Crowley pushed something into his hand. Cas looked down. A bottle of bleach. He shrugged, held the Dew's nose closed and poured the bleach into her mouth. After she finished choking, and her tongue regenerated, she managed to sputter, "Fuck, fuck you, Az has nothing to even do with Purgatory! It's Nyarlathotep! He's the one you want." Castiel pressed his hand to Az's forehead. Her eyes went wide. "You son of a whore! Kill Az, we care not. Our poison is already at work within you! You are LOST!" she shrieked, and then shone with white light and crumpled in on herself.

"There. Is there another matter?" he said to Crowley, brusquely.

"No, no, that was what I needed. Quite effective at this torture thing, you are. What was that she said about your faggotry? Is there something more to this Winchester thing I should know about? Or that I would just be interested in knowing?" Crowley sported a shit-eating grin. Cas glared at him, and curled his lip in a growl. Crowley irked him more and more each time the snarky demon verbally jabbed him.

"No."

"Speaking of the Venture Brothers, though, they could be useful in tracking this Mother of All. She's a much better bet than the sneaky bint, higher profile." Crowley fussed with the instruments of destruction neatly ladi out by the silver table.

"What do you want me to do about it?" he didn't believe he could be any more irritated by Crowley than he was at this moment.

"Well, you got them the damn Kryptonite. Keep them from using it on her, neh? Tag along, Hadji, and Italian Job the bitch."

"I don't understand the predominant amount of what you just said." Castiel said, surprised that his annoyance with Crowley could increase.

"The Winchester's are going to make their move on Eve, soon. Go with them, stop them, bring her to me, you socially retarded bower bird."

Castiel fixed Crowley with a withering glare which the demon ignored, and after a moment, Castiel vanished in an angry clap of wings.

* * *

><p>Castiel was getting annoyed with Dean again. It was irritating enough that the brothers balked at simple, logical things like killing the vampire girl, Lenore, and that he was blocked from his powers, but each time Dean made a snippy comment, Castiel found himself getting more and more pissed off. After the sweet sentiments they had shared, and baring his wings to Dean, he expected that the intoxicating feelings of awe and love Dean had had then would continue. At the very least he thought Dean would remember to treat him with the respect due to an Angel of the Lord.<p>

_Not__ that __I __am__ an__ angel__ of__ the__ lord,__ these__ days. __An__ Angel__ of__ something.__ Almost__ better__ than__ an__ angel._ Cas absentmindedly rubbed the amulet he still carried in his pocket. The armor and sword were proving invaluable in his fight against Raphael, killing enemy angels more effectively than ever before. He wasn't sure what kept him from revealing it to anyone else, but he hadn't told anyone, not Crowley, not Balthazar, and certainly not the increasingly infuriatingly condescending Dean Winchester, who was at that moment attemtping to start a fire.

"Found the kerosene!" Dean said brightly, holding up a can. He liberally doused the body and lit his Zippo. They stood, watching the plastic crumple around the corpse.

"Well, this is almost cozy," Dean smiled at Cas suddenly.

Cas made a slight noise of irritation, "We should go find Sam and Bobby."

"Yeah, I called 'em. They're gonna talk to the Sheriff, and call me back. We got some downtime," Dean sidled closer to Cas, and nudged him gently in the ribcage. Cas gave him a mildly annoyed look.

"What?"

"I have a great idea on how to kill some time."

"Dean, we are in the middle of a case. We're standing next to a burning corpse. This is not the time."

"This is totally the time. Go down on me. You know you want to."

"I really don't," Cas rolled his eyes.

Dean's eyes took on that evil gleam they got when Cas was playing hard to get. "You really do. Knees. Sucking. Now."

The parts of Castiel that loved the shit out of Dean wanted to acquiesce, but the parts that were fed up with the annoying _boy_ did not. Cas remained standing.

"I think you're forgetting who is the dom in this relationship. Do you want me to punish you?" Dean pushed at Cas's shoulders, in what was probably intended as a playful manner, but the angle interpreted it as controlling. Still, that sick little (_human?_) part of him was starting to get aroused by the familiar routine, and he dropped to his knees. Dean grinned even wider, and unbuckled his belt. Cas pulled the semi-hardened cock out, and took the tip in his mouth.

"That's a good little angel." Dean patted the top of his head. Feeling the irritation flaring again, Cas grazed his teeth along the sensitive edge. Dean jumped a little and swatted him in the face.

"Not with teeth, fucker. Behave, or I will seriously beat your ass."

Cas considered pushing it, but refrained from exacerbating the situation. Instead, he moved his lips further down the shaft, and swallowed as much of Dean's dick as he could. Dean made a pleased noise, and rolled his hips against Cas.

_He __is __lucky__ I__ don__'__t__ have__ my__ powers_, Cas thought darkly, but he had to admit to himself, he did love the way Dean felt in his mouth, the taste of the hunter, and the pleasure that rolled off him in waves that Cas could almost feel even without his full powers. He ran his tongue along the underside of the thrusting cock, and hummed a bit. Dean responded enthusiastically to the vibrations, grabbing the back of Cas's head and pulling his head down further, taking control of Cas's movements. Within a few more minutes, Dean came.

"Swallow it, bitch," he said, in a husky tone.

Castiel stood, looked Dean square in the eyes, and spit it into his face. Dean stood in shock for a moment, and then punched Cas right in the jaw, hard as he could. Cas was knocked backwards but the force of the blow, and landed on his ass on the ground. He sat, dazed for a moment, and his hand automatically went to his pocket. He had to consciously stop himself, and take a few deep, calming breaths, reminding himself that this was Dean. It was not reasonable to smite Dean right now, even if the insolent child was asking for it.

Dean's cell rang suddenly. Still glaring at Cas, he answered it, wiping the cum off his face.

"What? Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Be there in ten."

They drove to meet Bobby and Sam in hostile silence.

* * *

><p>Castiel and Bobby watched Sam and Dean walk into the diner.<p>

"So. Yer torturin' now?" Bobby said, casual tone dichotomous with the concern in his eyes.

"It is necessary. The war demands atrocities of all of us." Cas ran one of his fingers along the barrel of the gun in his hand, contemplating the cool metal.

"You've changed, that's fer sure. I thought… When you left, an' Dean went to Lisa… You gave him up, didn't you? You didn't go back because you wanted it, you left because you wanted Dean to have some peace." Bobby looked incredibly out of his element, and it struck Cas suddenly as extremely funny that the two of them always seemed to end up watching the boys stride into danger, powerless to stop or really help, and all they had left to do was make awkward- _what__ would __Dean__ call __it?__ Girl__ talk?_

"I'm an angel. What there was between Dean and I was never meant for permanence."

"Neither was what he had with Lisa, apparently." Bobby fixed Cas with an odd look.

"What are you getting at, Bobby?" Cas turned on him, eyes narrowing.

"Like I said, you changed. You ain't what you were the last time we had one of these bonding moments. I could feel that, you know, when you touched my soul. It ain't a one way street, kid, you've got darkness in you now. But Dean… I believe I mentioned, my walls ain't exactly soundproof. I know you boys been carrying on again. I know Dean loves you. The only other people he loves in this world that are still livin', I can count on one hand. The people he's said it out loud to? I think that's a club only you and Sam have jackets for. I'm givin' you free advice, Cas, you might wanna listen. That love is worth more than whatever else you got goin' on."

Castiel regarded Bobby for a long minute.

"Bobby, there's a demon behind you," he said finally, raising his gun a moment too late, and he felt arms grab him from behind. They were dragged into the diner to face the Mother of All.

* * *

><p>"I didn't ask you to clean up my mess," Cas informed Crowley, his voice tight with barely controlled rage. This day was almost more than he could take.<p>

"It's not my fault you let your crush on Dean Winchester dictate every single thing you do. Oh, yes, I've known about that since before the fucking Apocalypse. Bugged the Impala, heard all the buggering. I'm sure taking it up the ass from Michael's vessel is stimulating, but do you really think letting your prostate rule your brain is the way to go? Do you like being his pet angel? Does it make the whore inside get all slippery?" Crowley laughed. Cas had him pinned to the floor in an instant.

"_Fuck_ you, demon. You know nothing of my motivations. Do not test me. It will not end well for you." He wrapped his hand around Crowley's throat.

"Fuck me? Somehow, I doubt you've even been a top," Crowley was unfazed. "If I were you, I'd take my hand off me before I decide to get irate with you. Don't forget who owes whom here, my pet. "

Cas growled again, and pushed a little harder before pulling back roughly. "Did you locate Nyarlathotep?'

"I might have if I hadn't been busy playing Prissy for your Scarlett." Crowley sneered. "I'll call you when I find him." Crowley vanished. Castiel stood in the diner, seething for a moment. Then he vanished.

* * *

><p>Dean was back at Bobby's, in his room, moping with his only true friend, Jim Beam. Yeah, they had won, but seriously, how much longer could their lives keep up the incredibly depressing streak of each victory ending with a portent of something worse to come. That Bobby and Sam now doubted Cas, that was just the icing on the fucking cake.<p>

_And __that__'__s__ not__ even__ taking__ into __account__ the__ Blow __Job __Fiasco_, Dean thought bitterly, _although,__ I __really __think __saving__ his __life__ at __the __jail__ should__ make __up__ for__ some__ of__ it.__ And__ he__ was__ right__ about__ the__ fucking __kids.__ And__ had __to__ treat __me__l ike__ a__ fucking__ child__ about__ it,__ when__ he__'__s __the__ one-_ He felt the depressurization that meant Cas was there, an instant before the faint clap of wings hit his ears. Then he found himself shoved forward onto the bed, held in place by a single hand from the angel.

"You are a child, and you would do well to remember your place," The roughened voice growled in his ear. Dean froze in shock,

"Cas, what-"

"You shut your whining mouth, Dean Winchester. This has gone on far too long. I think because I _allow_ you to take your pleasure in my vessel, you think you have dominance over me? You would do nothing to me if I did not will it. And I think that it is time that I showed you who is really in control here." One hand still pinned him to the bed. There was a faint whispering noise, and Dean found himself suddenly stark naked, and just as fear began to gnaw at his thoughts in earnest, Castiel laid a blow across his buttocks.

_Is __Cas __actually__ spanking__ me?__ Like__ a__ naughty__ child?_ Dean thought incredulously, as another crack landed. It stung like a motherfucker. He was surprised when his dick started to harden. Maybe there was a part of him that was a little turned on, at first, but the blows quickly became more and more painful.

"Fuck! Cas! Stop it! Fuck, I'm fucking sorry!" Dean cried out as the blows continued to fall. He struggled against the hand that immobilized him.

"No. You're really not," Cas stopped suddenly. "You're scared, and your ass hurts, but you don't understand your place. I think I know how to teach you, though. What you said this morning." The voice was suddenly right next to his ear, deadly serious and quiet. "I've never been in _your_ ass, Dean. Maybe that's why you think you're the one in charge."

Now, Dean was fucking scared. He started to thrash about in vain, tried to free himself from the angel's grip, but his struggles were futile. Cas disregarded his panic completely, and instead wrapped his fist around Dean's semi-erect cock. As he slowly pumped it, he continued to talk to Dean, in that terrifying low voice.

"You feel pleasure because _I_ will it to be so, Dean. I have done everything for you, anything you ask, and still you balk at obeying my simplest wishes." Despite Dean's terror, he grew harder. The hand slid up his shaft, fingers brushing against the sensitive tip, and then swirling the drops of precum down.

"You order me down to Earth for every ridiculous whim, and worse, you instigate your brother to equal measures of disrespect. Have you forgotten that without me, you would still be in Hell? That it was I, and I alone, who raised you from perdition?" The hand withdrew suddenly. Dean stopped struggling and froze, tensing, anticipating what was coming.

"Do you understand that without me, you would be eternally damned? And you thank me by trying to keep me as a pet angel?" Two fingers speared into him, scissoring and probing. Dean moaned. He had never felt anything like this, not with Oberon, not with Alistair. Castiel's fingers burned inside of him, twisting and stroking a thin line between perfect pain and perfect pleasure.

"Rest assured that I am _not_ your pet. I will not 'blow' you whenever you demand; I will not allow you to call me a whining infant. You will do as I say, for a change."

"Cas, please don't do this! I'm sorry!" Dean was starting to actually feel repentance. He could see how the angel might feel slighted, as he was reminded of everything Castiel had done for him, given up for him.

"Exactly, Dean, everything _I_ gave up for _you._ Every time I _died_ for you. Every time I turned my back on my family, every angel I killed to keep you safe, every sacrifice I made to preserve _your_ happiness. And you can't even muster up faith in me. _Fuck_ you, Dean Winchester."

Dean felt the enormous width of Castiel's cock pressing into his opening, stretching him impossibly wide. He tried to clench shut, wiggle forward, away from the pain, but Cas pressed irrevocably forward, slowly filling Dean until the entire massive length of him was sheathed. Then he stopped, and Dean could almost feel the eyes examining the sight of Dean's ass, spread open around Castiel's cock. The thought sparked arousal in Dean's stomach, rather than terror, and Dean was surprised to feel the burning slowly replaced by gratification. He felt the pressure on his neck lift away, replaced by hands holding his hips, and Cas experimentally withdrew and then sank back into him. Dean let out an animalistic cry, and heard Cas moan in response. He felt the angel's cock spear into the cluster of nerves, and he was lost, thrusting back against Cas, desperately forcing his hand under his stomach to pull at his own dick, which was throbbing painfully for release.

"No, Dean, you will wait until I am ready to let you come." Cas's voice was strained, but firm. Dean withdrew his hand, and it was replaced by Castiel's. At the same moment, he felt the angel sink his teeth into Dean's neck. He moaned, felt the lips at his neck suck hungrily at his flesh, as the hand twisted around his precum-slicked shaft. The thrusting into his ass sped up, faster and faster, but the hand on his dick kept a slower tempo, one that drove him almost to the brink, over and over, and then drew him back.

"Which of us is dominant here, Dean? Who is in charge?"

Dean let out a strangled cry into the mattress.

"Say it, Dean. Tell me who controls you?"

"God, Cas, you do, you!" Dean screamed, coming apart at the seams.

"Yes. I do." Cas murmured with satisfaction, and Dean felt the angel's cum spurt inside of him. "Now, Dean, now I will allow you to come for me."

Dean did, massively, explosively, and then went limp, sobbing and laughing hysterically at the same time. Cas collapsed on top of him, still inside. They both lay bonelessly, drawing labored breaths. After what seemed like years to Dean, he felt the weight lift off him, and he was able to move, turn over. Castiel stood over him, watching. The angel's eyes were softer than he expected, but they held a glint of something different, something powerful and dark. He looked down at Dean.

"Now, you are sorry. Now you understand your place," he said calmly.

Dean let out a shaky breath. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. I'm fucking sorry, Cas, I was wrong."

Cas lowered his head slightly.

"I forgive you, Dean, because I love you," he reached out a hand, and brushed Dean's cheek lightly, "But you need to trust me, absolutely, from this point on, that I am doing what is right, that I am worthy of your faith. "

"I get it now, Cas, I'm sorry. " Dean looked up at him, still a little scared.

Cas leaned down, and laid a kiss on his forehead. Dean closed his eyes, and then felt pressure on his lips. He kissed the angel back.

A moment passed, and he felt Cas draw back. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to see the terrible love and dominance in the blue eyes.

"I'm sorry," Dean heard the whisper, and when he opened his eyes, Cas was gone.

* * *

><p>Castiel stood over Dean, reading his thoughts for signs that the remorse was false, but found nothing. Satisfied that Dean understood his place, Castiel leaned down and kissed the human's forehead. When he withdrew, Dean's eyes were closed, and he looked so lovely, flushed with passion, marked with Cas's lovebites. He leaned over again, kissed Dean on the lips. At first there was no response, but then Dean shivered a little, and parted his lips to receive Cas's tongue. At the meeting of their mouths, Cas shuddered himself, and suddenly came back to himself. The full impact of what he had just done to Dean hit him. That he had forced himself upon Dean, forced him to enjoy sex whether or not he wanted it, after what Alistair had done to him, Castiel suddenly realized the weight of his actions. Struck by shame, he whispered an apology, and vanished.<p>

* * *

><p>Dean didn't see it as rape.<p>

_What__ rapist __checks __in__ on __his __victims?_ he thought, _Cas __loves __me.__ He__'__d__ do__ anything__ for __us._ He figured, Alistair never loved him. Alistair wanted to break him. Cas was hurting, stressed, and Dean had finally pushed him too far. It wasn't that different than that night over the hood of the Impala. He got it. He disagreed with Sam and Bobby's hunch that Cas had gone Dark Side. He went along with them, sure, but he practiced his "I-told-you-so" speech on the way back to Bobby's, after Cas checked in on him.

_They__ don't __know__ how__ much__ there__ really __is__ between __me__ an'__ Cas.__ After__ all__ this, __Sammy's__ almost__ himself __again,__ I__ could__ tell__ him__ now,__ he'd__ be __okay __with__ it-__ hell,__ he'd__ probably __be__ happy __for__ me.__ It's__ been__ a__ long __time__ coming,__ but__ Sam__ and__ I,__ we're__ almost__ what __we__ used__ to__ be.__ He'd__ trust__ me,__ if__ he __knew.__ An'__ Bobby'd__ come __around,__ he'd__ be__ all__ surly __about__ the__ gay,__ but __he'd__ get__ it,__ too, __in__ the __end,__ he'd__ understand__ why__ I__ know __Cas __isn't__ in __bed__ with__ Crowley._ Dean tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as _Black__Wings_ by Tom Waits played. He thought of Cas's blue wings, and smiled a little to himself.


	14. My Spirit Is Crying For Leaving

_Author's Note: This has now been extended to contain slight spoilers for 7.01. So, if you haven't see ALL of 7.01, maybe don't read this chapter until after you've seen it. Also, more non-consent. Blasphemous non-consent. I really don't think this is CAS though, I think at this point, there's something darker at work in him, and if he'd stayed on earth with Dean at the end of season 5, none of this would ever have happened.  
><em>

_This is the last chapter, but there will be an epilogue. Thanks for the ride, kiddies.  
><em>

**Chapter Fourteen: My Spirit Is Crying For Leaving**

Dean sat alone on the couch at Bobby's. His faith in Cas was shattered and his heart was broken. He could barely wrap his mind around it- _Cas, my Cas, my angel… I guess we're not too gay to think it now, are we, Winchester? But he's not mine, not anymore, he's not even himself._ He took another extended swallow from his bottle- _Because fuck pussyfooting around with shots at this point, he thought bitterly. Why the fuck did he even stop by?_ It took another full bottle of whiskey, but finally Dean drank himself into the dream-state. At least there, he hoped, he could lose himself in a fantasy of peace.

* * *

><p>"Hello, darling. I need you to go get something for me. A journal. Moishe Campbell's, to be exact." Crowley had been trying to raise him for hours, but Cas had been attempting to receive some sort of guidance from his Father as to what he should be doing, as to what was right. His conversation with Dean had left him with his sanity cracking, terrified of what he was turning into, of what he was now capable of inflicting. Cas felt like he splitting down the middle, into an angel and a human, and he flopped from moment to moment, back and forth between knowing he was absolutely right, and wanting to run crying to Dean begging for forgiveness. But of course his pleas were unheard, or at least, unanswered by God. Cas had finally given up, and went to Crowley.<p>

"Why can't you get it yourself?" he grumbled. He hated Crowley with every fiber of his being. He was hungry for the time when he could put an end to his deal with the King of Hell.

"Because, my little sparkle fairy princess, you are uniquely suited to retrieve it. Apparently, it's in the possession of one Bobby Singer."

"No. Absolutely not. I've already been there once tonight. It… did not go well. I am no longer welcome."

"You're not going to be welcome regardless, pet, you're the proverbial thief in the night. We need it, if you want this Purgatory thing to happen. You know, the little fucking project we've been working on for, oh, say all fucking year. Get your- what does your boyfriend say? Feathery fucking arse? Down there and retrieve it. Fetch. Go." Crowley's voice was filled with barely restrained anger.

Cas glared, but vanished. Just a little longer, and I'll be done with Crowley, he thought.

"Good boy," Crowley smirked to himself.

Cas blinked into Bobby's living room. Dean was asleep on the couch again, this time twitching restlessly. _Is he having nightmares again?_ Cas wondered, and popped invisibly into Dean's dreams.

* * *

><p>A host of people sat around a table loaded with dinner. A giant roasted bird, potatoes, cranberries, pies, every type of pie imaginable. A holiday dinner? Cas saw himself, seated next to Dean, who sat at the head of the table. On Dean's other side was Sam, holding the hand of a blonde girl Cas assumed was Jess, then John and Mary, Bobby, Lisa and Ben, Jo and Ellen, a mulleted blonde man, the psychic who's eyes he'd burned out, even Adam, Anna, and an African American girl. Cas realized it was everyone Dean had ever truly cared about, everyone he'd lost. They laughed and talked, eating the food and enjoying the company. As Cas watched, Dean reached over and pulled Dream-Cas's head forward, kissing pie off of his lips. Lisa laughed, Mary smiled approvingly, and Sam groaned, "Get a room, guys!" in mock disgust. Dean pulled his mouth away, but took Dream-Cas's hand in his own. The look they exchanged was one of pure love and happiness. Shaken, Cas returned to the real world. He tried to rifle through Bobby's desk quietly, but his hand had a quiver to them he couldn't seem to control.<p>

"What the fuck, Cas?" Dean's angry voice came from behind him. "What are you doing here? Are you fucking stealing from us, on top of the Judas shit?"

"I came to talk." He kept his back to the hunter.

"There is nothing left to talk about."

"Why can't you see I am trying to do the right thing?"

"Because you're not. You need to get the fuck out of this house. Without whatever you're trying to steal."

Cas heard the shifting of Dean's weight, and whirled around in time to receive Dean's fist to his jaw. He was stunned for a moment. Suddenly, he had had it with the fighting. Without thinking, he reached out and laid two fingers against Dean's brow. Dean stumbled back, and blinked. He looked at Cas and smiled.

"Hey, angelcakes. You came to see me?" Dean stepped forward, pulling Cas's hips into his own. "I missed you," he pouted, and kissed the angel lightly on the lips. Cas pushed the thought of how incredibly wrong it was to manipulate Dean this way to the back of his brain. He just wanted all of the pain to stop, just for a while.

"I missed you, too." Cas smiled back as they broke the kiss. He pulled away from Dean slightly. "Tell me you love me."

"I will always love you, Cas." Dean's eyes practically shone with affection.

"Tell me you trust me."

"I trust you with my life, man. You know that."

"Tell me you worship me."

"I worship you." Dean dropped to his knees, pulling at the angel's belt buckle. He grinned up at Cas, and then lightly ran his tongue across the head of Cas's cock. "I worship you, Cas." He wrapped his lips around Cas's dick, slide his tongue along the sensitive spot under the little hole. Cas looked down at the brown head bent in supplication, and his heart felt tight, like it might explode into flames. Finally, he could stand it no more, and pushed Dean back onto the couch. He set his lips to Dean's throat, and bit gently at the tender flesh. Dean moaned, and arched his hips against Cas's. Cas helped him pull his t-shirt off, allowed him to push the trench coat from Cas's shoulders. Cas ran his hands down the taut stomach, and caressed the erection rubbing against his own. With his other hand, he brought Dean's fingers to his mouth, and sucked on the first two, tracing the whorls with the tip of his tongue. When they were wet, he said, "Prepare yourself for me."

Without hesitation, Dean reached down, and slid his fingers into his ass. He groaned, and closed his eyes in pleasure. Cas was thrilled at the sight of the hunter, full lips parted, hardened cock straining in Cas's hand, fingers pumping away in his puckered opening.

Cas allowed him to continue until he sensed Dean was about to lose control, then placed his hand on Dean's wrist, and pulled it away. He replaced the fingers with his engorged cock.

Dean's eyes flew open as Cas entered him, letting out an deep moan. "Fuck, Cas, fuck, you feel so fucking good…" He pressed his lips to Cas's, hot and desperate, tongue searching to enter Cas's mouth, straining to be inside of each other.

Cas moved slowly as he possibly could, easing in and out, savoring the clenching of Dean's muscles around him. It was the sweetest feeling, the sense of completion, as if every answer he was searching for could be found in the union of their flesh. He felt the smooth length of Dean pressing against his stomach, and reached between them again to caress the warm skin. He thrust in and out at the same slow rhythm that his hand followed.

Then, to his surprise, Dean began whisper against his neck.

"Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name…"

Cas quickened his pace, beginning to slam into Dean, who rose up off the couch to meet each thrust, breath coming in ragged sobs between the words he continued to gasp out, louder and louder.

"Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven…"

Dean's cock was twitching frantically in his hand now, his hands clutching at Cas's ass, pulling him as deep inside as possible, completely lost in the spasms of pleasure.

"Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us…"

Dean's nails raked across his back, digging into the wing scars, sending white hot tingles down Cas's spine. Cas placed his right hand on the mark he had left on Dean, and instantly, every sensation the hunter felt flowed through him, and he knew every feeling he had was coursing through Dean as well. They were both lost, struggling to draw breath, desperate to reach climax and to never reach climax, to never let it stop.

"And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil, for thine is the _kingdom_-"

Cas closed his eyes, feeling his last shred of control slipping away.

"And the _power_…"

Dean's legs were locked around his waist, the warmth inside of his canal seeming to pull Cas in of its own accord. Tears ran down the human's face, and Cas was shocked to feel the wetness streaming from his own eyes.

"And the _glory…_"

Cas mouthed the last words with Dean, as he let go of the control, and they came together, "For ever, and ever, amen."

Exhausted, they collapsed against the couch, wordlessly caressing and petting each other, refusing to stop despite the climax. Cas buried his face in Dean's neck, and wished desperately that he could let things just stay like this for ever and always.

When at last he pulled his face away, Dean looked at him, with the same love-starred eyes.

"Oh, Cas." He breathed, "I love you. I worship you. It's your kingdom, your will. You're a better God to me than anything else could ever be. I trust in you."

Cas couldn't respond. He wished with every part of his Grace that this could be the truth. But it wasn't, and he knew it, and now that the orgasm had left his body, he was coming back to himself.

He stood abruptly, gathered his clothing.

"Where are you going?" Dean asked, a sated tangle of limbs across the couch. Cas looked down, taking in the sight of Dean, legs spread, flushed and exuding perfect happiness. His lips were swollen and red marks covered his neck. His eyes were heavily lidded, and he reached up to Cas. "Come lay with me a while longer."

"I have to go, Dean. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything… But, afterwards… You'll see. It will be like this always. I'm going to make it so we can have this, always, so things don't continue to hurt. I'm going to fix everything," Cas knelt next to the couch, took Dean's hand in his own. "I love you, Dean. I love you more than anything else in my entire existence. If you remember nothing else, remember that." He brushed two fingers of his other hand gently across Dean's brow, and the human slumped limply against the cushion, clothed and unconscious. Cas laid a final kiss on Dean's lips, rose, and took the Journal from the desk.

Then, he was gone.

* * *

><p>When Dean woke, he felt relaxed, but sore, as if he'd spent the whole night fucking and not tossing and turning on the couch. But he was clothed, and alone, and except for his dreams of Christmas dinner and making love to Cas, his night had been spent in solitude.<p>

Then, the sky fell, the earth crumbled and the proverbial feces hit the machine directing the airflow. Crowley took Lisa and Ben, and Dean didn't want to think it, but part of him was sure Cas was involved.

Dean was torturing again in a heartbeat, sliding back into the ritualistic deconstructing of psyches like he had never left, without a second thought. Hell, there wasn't even a first thought, he would do whatever he fucking had to, to save them. It was one thing to drag Sam and Cas down into the muck alongside him, they were informed, they made some sort of decision to lower themselves to his level. Ben and Lisa had not, in fact, Lisa had sent him away because she knew exactly what a piece of work Dean was, because she didn't want this shit in her life.

When Cas saved him, Dean felt his mistrust waver for a split second, before Cas told him he had to stand down, and then it was back, worse than before, because Cas didn't have his back anymore. The blue eyes looking at him were full of pity instead of love before they vanished, and it made Dean sick to think that things had actually gotten worse than they'd been a year ago as Sam flung himself into the pit.

_How the hell did that come to seem like a happy ending? Is this really the shitstorm I'm living in? This is like a bad soap opera that's gone on too many seasons, and now they're just fucking with the characters out of sadistic cruelty,_ he thought bitterly.

Balthazar showed up then, with snappy comments and Ben and Lisa's location, and Dean didn't have time to stay at his pity party for himself, or to think about the possibility of a messy divorce between Cas and Crowley, the only thing that mattered was saving Ben and Lisa.

Dean nearly lost her, wanted to die when he saw the look in Ben's eyes as his mother breathed her last shallow gasps, and then Cas was there.

Dean thanked Cas, and was grateful that he healed Lisa, and wiped their brains of the memories of Dean, but it wasn't until months later that Dean truly appreciated Cas healing her, more than anything he'd ever done for Sam or Dean, because it was the last pure act Castiel performed. It was the last selfless miracle. He understood, for a moment at least, that Cas was trying to do what he thought was right.

_He's such a child. He doesn't understand that power corrupts anything, that power is what's wrong here. Free will, yeah, that's important, that's integral to existence, but you gotta use it to make the right choices. You gotta have those gut instincts, and Cas doesn't. He just had me, and then I let him go back to heaven, and I went to Lisa, and I fucked everything up._ Dean drank himself to sleep again, lying dreamless until Sam came and roused him, saying that Bobby got a message from Eleanor, and they had to go.

* * *

><p>Castiel waited for Crowley in his laboratory, amulet clutched in his hand. He replayed the events of the last few days in his head, turning the amulet over and over just like the thoughts. He was so angry, livid, with Crowley, for taking Lisa and Ben, angry with himself for how he had handled it. He had meant to tell Dean that he would save them regardless, but the utter hatred of Dean's words, the contempt and distrust, made him so sick that he had let the hunter's assumptions stand. But he healed Lisa and Ben, in the end, and wiped their memories, so he felt as though his debt to Dean was repaid.<p>

_Balthazar._ Castiel was livid with Balthazar for his betrayal. _Why does every single being I love attempt to stab me in the back? It doesn't matter. I'll deal with him._

The death of the demon woman, Eleanor, that hadn't affected him at all. Torture of demons came easily to Castiel these days. They all deserved to be wiped from this Earth. _I shall smite them, oh yes, I shall go all Smitey McSmiterson on their asses, as Dean would say._ Cas smiled a little, thinking of Dean.

He hadn't wanted to trap Sam in his ridiculous, bulbous head, but really, with a cranium that large, the younger Winchester was practically begging people to mindfuck him. It was necessary, because nothing sort of endangering Sam would distract Dean long enough o get the ritual done. He would restore Sam, of course, after the ritual. After the ritual it would all be okay. Dean would come around, he would see how much Cas loved him, how this was all to protect him, to save them all. _Dean will beg me to forgive him. He'll worship me, they'll all worship me._

He placed the amulet around his neck. It was time to end Crowley.

Nothing happened. The sword and armor failed to appear. _Even God's weapons desert me in my time of need,_ Cas thought bitterly. _No matter. I don't need them to deal with an upstart demon. Or with Balthazar._

* * *

><p><em>The door to Purgatory swirls open in front of Castiel, and as the souls pour through, he has to shield his eyes, they are so bright and terrible. As they surround him, push against him, begin to fill him, he is suddenly himself again. As clearly as if he was there again, he remembers his last night on earth with Dean, the night before Sam jumped in the hole. After they made love, they lay holding each other, and Dean looked into Castiel's eyes.<em>

_"I do love you, you know. Maybe more than the Impala."_

_Castiel smiled. "That's a lot?"_

_"More than I've ever loved anything 'cept my family. The breakdown is like, number 3, pie, number two, Impala, number one, family. Which you basically are now. One of us." Dean twined his hand through Castiel's hair, tugging his head gently forward, kissing the tip of his nose. "Do you really love me?"_

_"Yes. More than anything I've ever known." Castiel closed his eyes, afraid that God might smite him for the blasphemy. "For you, Dean, I would tear my Grace from my chest, if we lived in a world where we could live in peace. I love you with every single fiber of free will I now possess."_

_Dean was quiet a moment, amazed at the depth of the angel's words. Then, he sighed, "I wish we had that world. One where there was no God, no demons, just people. Everyone I love, safe. We could have a garage. A house. You could learn to garden. You could learn to bake me pie! We could have a room for Ben, have Sam over for dinners. We could have movie nights. I'd show you every cheesy movie over and over til you got every stupid reference. Teach you to disco dance and shoot pool and all the things people do." He ran his knuckles gently along Cas's wing-scars._

_"That's a nice dream, Dean." Cas closed his eyes, allowing himself to picture Dean's fantasy, enjoying the faint sensation of Dean's fingers where his wings would be if he wasn't so drained. "I wish it could come true."_

_"Yeah." Dean appeared lost in thought for a time. Then, "Cas? Can you promise me something?"_

_"Anything."_

_"Promise me you'll never change. When I went to the future, I saw a different you. One without hope, one that was beaten and broken. I don't want that for you, no matter what happens. I want you to always remember who you are, remember why we fight. Always remember that I love you, and that there are right choice and wrong choices. Promise me you'll always make the right ones."_

_"I promise. I will always try my best to do as you've taught me, Dean. I will always trust you, always believe in you."_

_There is something else, something much greater and more terrible than the souls, and he can't keep it out. The souls are almost in complete control of Castiel now, and it is almost too late to back out, and as his eyes snap open and the light of the souls emanate from his every orifice, Castiel realizes that he was wrong, he wasn't righteous at all, he was prideful and horrible and he had betrayed the only person who had ever really, truly mattered to him. The only person who considered him worthy. Family. Brothers in arms._

_Then it is too late, and Castiel can do nothing but hide the little fragment of himself that knows right from wrong in the memory of Dean, hide the memory in the darkest, most private corner of his heart, and then, oh then…._

_Everything that is pure in Castiel is lost, and the souls and the righteous God are all that is left, twisting around the horrible creatures waiting inside his gut for their chance to strike._


	15. Epilogue: Death Is Not The End

_Author's Note: Originally, I intended to wait until season 7 had aired and write a sequel to this story. I never dreamed that what happened would happen, and I don't think it's likely that anything will happen to encourage me to write a continuation that isn't pure fluff. However, I feel that with events playing out the way they did, 7.01 and 7.02 fall in line with what I have written. Oh, so spoilers for 7.01 and 7.02, and this is the end of my story, but hopefully not the end of Castiel's journey._

**Epilogue: Death Is Not The End**

When Cas appeared before Dean, interrupting the ritual, he gave Dean a look unlike any they'd ever shared before. There was nothing of the Cas Dean knew in those eyes, eyes absent of love or trust, eyes with pupils blown with something dark and terrible. Dean couldn't do anything but gape as Cas serenely regarded him, brimming with… _he__ looks __like__ a __cat__ full__ of__ canary,_ Dean thought nervously.

Raphael exploded.

Cas began to talk to Dean, explaining himself again, calmly, as if he assumed Dean now understood his actions and took his side, as if the events that had just occurred were the most natural in the world.

Dean tried to use his inside voice, soothing and respectful, tried to reason with this thing in Cas's body.

The new God looked so pleased with himself. Dean could feel his heart clamoring inside his ribs as he tried to reach his Cas, praying to something higher than himself that he could just reach the person he loved inside the holy shell.

"I have no family," Cas said coldly, and out of seemingly nowhere, the tip of the angel blade manifested in the center of his chest.

It took Dean a second to comprehend that Sam had stabbed Cas, a few seconds that seemed like hours for Dean to understand that Sam was up and moving under his own power and that Cas was dead, that Sam had killed him. Unmeasurable joy and horrific grief fought in his head for a moment, joy that Sam was okay, and sadness that Cas was dead, before realizing that no, Cas wasn't dead, Cas wasn't an angel anymore, this time, Cas really was fucking God.

Bobby was the first to bow, before Cas stopped them.

Dean wanted it to not be true, wanted the Castiel he knew to still be in there, but with each word that fell from his lips, it was clearer and clearer that this thing wasn't Cas, it was like Sam had been without his soul. Castiel's grace, or whatever it was that made him feel, made him love Dean, was gone, buried under the souls of millions of evil things.

Dean still begged, but it did nothing and God-Cas vanished. Sam collapsed and Dean and Bobby had nothing else to do but gather up the hulking sack of Sam's limp body and fall back to the home base.

Dean fixed the Impala.

_What__ the __fuck __else __can __I__ do?_ he thought helplessly, _Something __about__ changing__ what__ I__ can,__ huh._

Dean started to truly give up, like when he'd been ready to say yes to Michael, like when John had died. Cas was dead, just like John, and Mary, and Ellen, and Jo and the countless others that had died because of Dean. He'd thought he was dead inside long before this, but now he realized that it could always get worse.

_The__ only__ reasons__ I'm __not __putting__ a__ bullet __into __my __brain_, he thought, _is__ Sam __and __Bobby __would__ be__ so__ fucking __pissed __at__ me,__ they'd __bring__ me__ back__ just__ to __tear__ me__ a __new __one._

So, he fixed the Impala, and he drank until every feeling he had was buried under layers of alcoholic numbness. The only weakness he allowed himself was that the radio played only world news, reports pouring in of Cas's 'miracles' instead of classic rock. Sometimes, a clip would catch his attention; make something that almost resembled a spark of hope flare in him that part of Cas was in there, eradicating hate and evil in the world.

Then some other part of him- either the realist or the pessimist, depending on how drunk he was- reminded him that sooner or later, the other men's dress shoe would drop.

Considering what his life had come to, Dean found himself lost inside mending the Impala. There was an order to cars, a myriad of little mechanical wonders working to make a giant metal frame function, do beautiful things. Dean was rebuilding his home, Sammy's home. Fixing it reminded him that he had control of some things, control of himself and his actions, control of the nuts and gears that made himself and the Impala whole.

_In__ another __life,__ I'da __been__ a__ great__ mechanic_, he dreamed for a second, now and then, almost feeling okay, but inevitably, the thought of the apple pie life brought back a flood of sentimental memories of pillow talk with Cas and Lisa, and Dean would throw down his wrench and go into the house for more whiskey.

Sam and Bobby wouldn't let it go, though, and finally, the answer came to Dean, oddly enough, from those pillow talks with Cas.

Death. Dean really liked the guy, and he kinda thought the feeling might be mutual. He hoped Death wouldn't take the whole binding ritual thing too personally.

The conversation with Death could have been going worse, and then Dean felt the odd depressurization that heralded the soft deep, "Amazing."

He turned and there was Cas, beautiful face covered in red hives, eyes still full of terrifyingly twisted serenity.

Death had some interesting observations of his own, and Dean should have been terrified by words like "mutated" and "explode" and "chomp the entire Petri dish", but all he felt was that spark again of insane hope, because the way Death talked, Cas was still in there, somewhere, under the evil.

Once again, the spark of hope was instantly drowned by the pissing match between Cas and Death.

Dean met Sam's eyes and reminded himself, _Whether__ or__ not__ the__ Cas__ I__ love __is__ still__ kicking__ in__t here,__ this__ thing__ in__ front__ of __me __brain-raped__ Sammy__ and__ has __to__ be __put__ the __fuck __down._

"Just kill him, now!" he snapped and Cas fixed him with another horrible look, something that was almost shocked betrayal flickering under the plastic, inflamed features.

Suddenly, before Dean could register, Death was free, Castiel was gone, and the room filled with the smell of pickle chips. Death kept speaking, but the words didn't matter. Dean had officially given up.

* * *

><p>Cas finally understood how Jimmy Novak had felt. The thing in his skin had his voice, his convictions, even his self righteousness, but it wasn't the essence of Cas's Grace running the show. Cas caught glimpses in between the bouts of blindingly excruciating agony, of dead bodies, and of Dean's grief.<p>

He woke with a gasp, the feel of coagulating blood tightening his cheeks. He rose shakily, flinching from the sight of bloody corpses amid campaign posters surrounding him.

_Why__ am __I__ me?_ he thought wildly,_ What__ have__ I__ done?_

"No…" he muttered, "No…" and horrible hissing whispers filled his ears. He staggered away, unaware of the path he took.

Suddenly, over the sibilant voices, another voice cut through, stong and clear, and entirely unexpected.

"Hey, Castiel. Um, maybe this is pointless… Look, I dunno if any part of you even cares, but, um, I still think you're one of us, deep down… and way, way, way off the reservation, but… we still have til dawn to stop this. Let us help, please."

Sam. The abomination, the hero, the least likely person to absolve Cas of his sins. Cas was yet again amazed by the incredible capacity of humans to love and forgive. He used his last ounce of Grace to go to him.

_They say admitting you need help is the hardest part._

_They're wrong._

* * *

><p>Dean shut off the hentai, pushed Sam the glass of alcohol, and almost missed the clap of wings.<p>

"Sam, I heard your call. I need help." Cas addressed Sam, but he looked at Dean, and the eyes were Cas's again, holding all the familiar love and trust and now, infinite sadness.

Dean had nothing to say to him. Sam helped Cas to the car and into the lab, and it wasn't until he left to get the blood that Cas tried to speak to Dean.

Dean was still pissed, so fucking pissed, and he didn't want to hear empty words of regret. Sam was taking too long. Dean felt fear gnawing in his gut and went to find him.

* * *

><p>Cas looked up at Bobby from his place on the floor.<p>

"I should have listened to you."

"Well, duh, ya fuckin' idjit. You make it though this, and then you make amends. Ain't a man alive who ain't done shit he's 'shamed of. Dean loves ya, Sam believes in ya, what more do ya want?" Bobby glared.

"I don't believe he loves me anymore. I don't deserve-"

"It ain't about what ya deserve. Stop beatin' yerself raw, get through this, then deal."

"I don't think I'll make it." Cas closed his eyes.

"Then Dean'll deal in his own time. He's a grown man, he's lived through worse." Bobby's eyes softened for a moment, looking at the slumped form below him, "At least you asked for help. That's what counts."

* * *

><p>For all his butthurt feelings, Dean couldn't take his eyes off the trench-coated shoulders as the portal opened.<p>

"I'm sorry, Dean," Cas growled painfully, as the symbols began to glow, and Dean wanted so badly to go to him, tell him he understood, even if he didn't agree, that he loved him no matter what.

He flinched at the light pouring from Cas, and then forced his gaze back up, refusing to let Cas die alone.

The portal finally closed, and Cas's body collapsed to the floor. They rolled his cold and lifeless body over, and Dean gulped back tears.

He couldn't give up hope, not now, not when things were as bad as they could get. Seconds stretched on and on, and just as the hope was dying again, and Dean rasped out, "Damn it. Cas, you child. Why didn't you listen to me?" Cas began to glow and heal, sucking in a ragged breath.

Dean felt absolutely certain in the moment that everything would be okay. Cas was utterly and completely himself, all awkward understatements and repentance, and Dean couldn't keep the love and relief off his face. He wanted to pull Cas to him, bury his face in the trench coat, and never let go. Cas was trying to tell him earnestly that he would redeem himself, and Dean thought, _Okay,__ gotta__ find__ Sammy,__ and __it's __all __over,__ it's__ finally__ all__ gonna__ be__ okay._

"You need to run, now!" Cas doubled over, yelling suddenly, "I can't hold them back!"

Dean turned away for only a moment, just one moment, and in that moment, the man he loved died a jerking, mangled death, too fast for Dean to even react, because in the split second it took to return his eyes to Cas, the Leviathans filled the vessel and Cas was fucking gone.

The creature in his place was a terrible mockery, the Joker in a bloody trench coat, grinning manically as he tossed them across the room like toys.

"Now, this is going to be so much fun," it said and let a chilling laugh echo through the room.

Naturally, Dean responded to the ancient, unspeakable evil by shamelessly agitating it as it deteriorated before their eyes. The Leviathans staggered from the room, and Dean and Bobby went to find Sam.

* * *

><p><em>Dean reaches the shore just as Cas's body sinks under the water. Only the knowledge that it isn't really Cas keeps Dean from flinging himself in after it. Blackness explodes out from the whirlpool where the Leviathan went under.<em>

_Dean looks down, and there's the coat, sodden and stained, somehow it's already made its way to shore._

_He lifts it from the water as reverently as a flag from a coffin, and folds it carefully._

_"Dumb son of a bitch," he snaps, but his fingers clutch the coat a moment too long for it to be a bitter dismissal._

_Later, after the coat is dry, Dean wraps it around the Colt, and tucks it into the trunk of the Impala, feeling the weight of his ring in the pocket. If he presses his face into it for a moment to absorb the tears before he puts it away, that's no one's business but his own._

_Fuck, he thinks, I love you. I'll always love you, you dumb son of a bitch._

* * *

><p>Credits:<p>

Obviously, many lines of dialogue used for establishing the timeline are the property of Mr. Eric Kripke, Sera Gamble and Bed Edlund and all the other amazing people who allow us to write graphic sex scenes involving their brilliant creation. I have no affiliation with the Supernatural team, I'm just a lowly butthurt fangirl that needed first to write romantic porn, and then to create reason for the events of seasons 6 and 7.

Referenced Song List (Which Can Also Be Used as a SUPERnatural Playlist)

Tito and the Tarantulas - The Strange Face of Love

Led Zeppelin - Stairway to Heaven

Kansas - Carry On My Wayward Son

Journey - Ask the Lonely

AC/DC - You Shook Me All Night

Bon Jovi - You Give Love a Bad Name

Lynyrd Skynyrd - Free Bird

Dio - Rainbow in the Dark

Boston - More Than a Feeling

Meatloaf - I Would Do Anything For Love

The Commodores - Slippery When It's Wet

BTO – You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet

Alan Parsons Project – Don't Answer Me

Led Zeppelin - Nobody's Fault but Mine

Led Zeppelin - Over the Hills and Far Away

Led Zeppelin - Black Dog

Led Zeppelin – Dazed and Confused

AC/DC - Back In Black

The Who - Baba O'Riley

Scorpions - No One Like You

Bob Dylan - Death Is Not The End

Literature Referenced

The Odyssey – Homer

Cat's Cradle - Kurt Vonnegut

The Book of Enoch - Enoch

De Coelesti Hierarchia - St. Denis the Areopagite

The Lord's Prayer and Corinthians 13:1 – God

Media Referenced

The Magnificent Seven

Star Trek the Motion Picture

Blazing Saddles

Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid

_Author's Note: I'd do so much differently, if I could do it over, like not write it at all, because the end of it was emotionally draining as shit. I can't imagine how the actors felt, if I was this fucked up over writing about their brilliant performances. The people who've left feedback or reposted this on tumblr make it all worth the pain, though, because I know I'm not the only fangirl searching for meaning and reason in the pain of what's unfolding now. Thanks to everyone and anyone who'd read this or made it possible._


End file.
